


The Witcher's Mate

by Missingartist



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Omega, F/M, Falling In Love, Geralt need a hug, Jealous Geralt, Loss of Virginity, Love Triangles, My First Smut, Smut, Soulmates, Yennifers a bit of a bitch, mermaid oc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:47:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 81,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22058779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missingartist/pseuds/Missingartist
Summary: Witcher's mates are a thing of myth told by romantic fools, that was till Geralt stumble upon the mysterious Adva of Brightwater. Her scent is overpowering him but his mystery mate has a secret of her own, how will this fit into his destiny with Ciri and Yennifer or will she be cast out rejected. Follow Adva and Geralt as they try to make sense of the chaos surrounding them.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 291
Kudos: 1019





	1. Chapter 1

Geralt rolled his eyes as Jaskier inanely carried on is insufferable talking. They had been walking since dawn, normally the bard would not have minded, but his friend had been abnormally broody of late. His latest run-in with Yennefer was fraught with betrayal and lust. Jaskier could tell that this latest drama was the worse, Ciri had decided to go off with Yennifer this time to explore the wider world. Yet, again the dark-haired mage had left him behind on her search for something, something more leaving Geralt behind, emptier the before. The singer shared the deepest pity for his friend, for the Witcher’s magic and ability; he was at the mercy of the small woman, submissive to her whims and fancies. Love really does make fools of us all, even Witcher’s. Jaskier pondered before his mind flickered to a wholly more important question. How could he possibly make that into his next hit ballad?

‘So, where are we going exactly?’ Jaskier asked for the 14th time in the last hour. 

‘If I tell you will you finally shut up?’ Geralt growled his eyes, never leaving the horizon. 

‘Yessssss’ the singer whined. 

‘Brightwater….its a merchant town in the middle of nowhere. Rich- supplies every town from south to north.’ Geralt answered gruffly.

‘So, let me guess they have a terrible monster problem that has a big reward.’ 

‘Hmmmmm’

‘So, the mighty hero and his handsome companion ride into the village, slay the beast and rescue the beautiful maidens who fall head of heels in love with the noble bard before whisking him away to their beds.’ Jaskier smiled closing his eyes picturing the wonderful scene but not before his wondering feet came into contact with the particularly nasty jagged rock that cruelly pulled him away from pleasant daydream with a tight pain that seared from the sole of his foot. 

The shrill yelp of pain cause Geralt to turn on his saddle and smirk as he watched his personal songwriter hop on one foot clutching the other. ‘Jaskier, this is the part where you shut up.’ Geralt warned as he readjusted himself in the saddle

‘I think this will make a wonderful song,….’ The bard chocked out through the pain. ‘But this creature thing better not be another Striga… I have completely run out of rhyming words…plus I think my public is getting a little bored with them….I mean your public.’ 

‘Jaskier?’ 

‘Yes, Geralt?’ 

‘Shut the fuck up.’

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lord of Brightwater, Fagen Brightwater looked at the man at the front of him with keen interest, he had expected someone more haggard, older and not as handsome. The man in front of him looked young, his face chiselled with golden eyes that pierced through a man’s very soul, the only blemishes that he could see that marred his face was a small scar in the corner of his left eye and another on his forehead. Which Fagen had no problem predicting would only encourage the women on the town to try and entice the handsome monster hunter. Horny housewives and jealous husbands were not something that he had time to deal with; his lands were in chaos, fear of the impending war and being stalk by some supernatural being. Hunting a Witcher with pitchforks was not something he wanted to add to the ever-growing list of problems. The fool he had with them look like an overdressed rent boy; simpering gibbering babbled out his mouth could pass for simple wit, if it had been funny. The pair was unlikely. Strange even. Perhaps they were lovers who would make life easier while they were here, but other than saving him a headache he did not care who or what the Witcher fucked.

‘As you can see, we have many conflicting reports.’ Fagen spoke, pushing a pile of papers toward the two men who stood in front of him. ‘It slashes, rips, tears and bites. Some parts eaten on one victim then left behind on others. No one has ever properly seen it and lived to tell the tale. Those who have survived its attack have some varying stories it's hard to know which ones to focus on.’  
Geralt eyes lazily looked over the papers, Lord Brightwater was certainly a man of painstaking detail, the description seemed too wide and wavering, but three names piqued his interest, one of which a long lost acquittance from job in White Orchard, from what he remembers being a long search for pesky witches who cursed the poor daughter of a local Baron. 

‘People have survived?’ Geralt eyed the Lord in surprise as he throws down the papers haphazardly on the nearly ordered desk, gaining a dark glared from Fagen.

‘A few. Those have been housed in the healer’s hut if you need to speak with them. Our mages have attempted located this beast, but to no avail, so they have done what they can to protect and save the remaining villagers.’

‘This would be Cersi of White Orchard and old friend and Tradi of Browdon? I don’t recall a mage of the name of Adva?'

‘That’s because there isn’t one. Adva is a…. healer…herbalist… of a sort. You will have no need to meet her… she does not concern you in this matter; she is to be left alone.’  
Geralt raised an eyebrow. ‘If you want this creature found and dispatched that killing your villages and grinding your trade to a halt, I will talk to whomever I need to talk too, and I recommend that you stay out of my way.’ Geralt growled standing at his full height. Jaskiar shrank back eyeing the glaring men holding his hand up in surrender. 

The two men observed each other closely. Geralt was used to the arrogance of humanity and along with that was often stupidity, but from mere minutes in presence the Lord the Witcher knew the man possessed no stupidly, pride and superiority but then again show him a Lord who did not believe themselves to be superior to everyone else and he would show a man who was not a true Lord. If Fagen sent him and Jaskier away now he would be sentencing his people to death, pick off one by one and if the creature didn’t get them the gradual decrease in a trade from fear of the creature would turn Brightwater into an abandoned hovel. 

Fagen was the first to break the glare ‘You are to receive 500 gold coins when you bring me the creatures head. I have arranged your stay at the local tavern; they will see that all your needs are taken care of. And make sure your needs are met within the walls of the establishment. I do not need to save you from angry husbands baying for your blood. The townsfolk are anxious enough that we have had to bring a Witcher in; I do not need people questioning my decisions. I will present you to the town tonight, but I want you gone before the week ends. But you will put as far a distance between you and Adva as far as possible. Now I am a very busy man; the kitchen is awaiting you with a meal.’ Fagen dismissed with a wave of his hand, grabbing a quill with the other.  
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Geralt stood in the middle of the square on a risen podium; it looked like the whole town had gathered to sneak a peek at their saviour. The one thing he hated more then the portals was the public, was being the centre of attention, he liked the dark, being a shadow, unseen. Sniffing the air there was a scent, underneath the filth, the odour of bodies and sour milk and spoilt meat, a pure smell. Spiced apple and the ocean. Warm and comforting but clean and crisp. Furrowing his brow eyes began to scan the crowd. For the briefest of seconds, he thought it was Yennifer, no other scent had ever sorted his interest, but this smell was different. Deeper. Not the sweet smell of gooseberries and lavender that clung to Yennifer calling him, this fragrance pulled him, grabbing his attention, almost violently. The smell was getting closer, teasing him as the smell grew stronger and stronger. 

His eyes fell upon a familiar golden blonde adorned in rich purple. The Witcher could not help but let a scoff to puff out from his lips; Cersi could never look ordinary, she had to stick out in a crowd, her locks where pin into an attractive updo highlighting her swan-like neck that was laden with diamond. It would seem that life outside of court had not put a halt of the extravagance that Cersi indulgenced in. A toothy smile beamed up at the platform, reassuring if not a little bit cheeky. However, the smile was fleeting, as Cersi turned to greet a hooded figure with a tender smile. A cloaked figure pushed her way to stand side the elegant Mage. It was a worn and tattered grey thing pulled tight, concealing the figure beneath.

For the great Witcher time seemed to slow as the smell became almost overpowering, all other senses became dulled as a thudding of his heart was all he could hear. The women beside Cersi removed her hood to reveal dark brown curls that faded into lighter caramels ringlets around her shoulders, pale porcelain skin and full pink lips and vivid dark blue eyes twirling with liveliness darted around the crowd before resting upon his figure, smiling sweetly at him. Innocent and carefree. It took all his strength to hold himself in place, his muscles strained hard, clenching and unclenching gaining jeers from the ladies in the crowd. The scent she carried was potent and intoxicating, yearning for him, crying out for him, it was the only thing he could feel or see. He could feel the smell around him, clinging to his skin, suffocating him. 

‘Geralt….Geralt… You okay buddy? Geralt’ Jaskier called, the sound distorted in the magical haze that surrounded him.

‘It cannot be….It's not possible.’ The Witcher uttered in disbelief.


	2. Chapter 2

Brightwater was a large town hanging upon the end of the coast, surrounded by an impenetrable forest, a solid defence from the raging war. Yet, the quaint town nestled a busy port that never slept bringing new trader at every hour possible and with it more money and new faces. That was till the attacks started. At first, they were few a far between, a stray villager wandering off in the forest ripped apart by a bear, a dock worker having to be butchered by bandits in the dead of night, a couple of merchants devoured by a pack of wolves. The excuses came in thick and fast; people did not know what to believe. A monster was within the only thing that could attack in the dead of night before slipping back into the darkness unseen. In the last month, 13 people had been attacked at the claws of the creature. Men, women and children, the thing held no prejudiced, it disembowelled any that crossed its path without care or mercy. Even in the light of day, people seemed to hover in the doorways on their houses as they watched their children play, fear ever-present in their mind.

Though the mass of houses and business Adva stared out from a crooked window as she watched children play on the cobbled stones. Bone knuckles seemed to be a favourite, as they giggled on the patch of mud that they had drawn a pitch, they seemed so carefree and light-hearted in the face of so much death, an element that Adva had become far too familiar with. A pained groan broke her thoughts, turning a young girl coughed and spluttered her way to consciousness. The child was one of the latest victims, found barely alive among her family, a father and a heavy pregnancy mother. Adva cooed and shhhhed as the girl began to struggle against the grips of the healing spell. A pale, freckled thing with stringy red hair that looked more like a doll than a child, she hadn’t moved in 3 days since she was bought to the healer’s hut in the dead of night. The victim’s blood was tainted with some toxin, seeping into every cell and draining their energy, teetering them on the edge of death. Adva had filled the room with the heavy incense of rosemary and nettles that burned wildly behind her, a bitter and unpleasant smell, but a necessary one to purify the blood and the body. The damage to the tiny body had been significant- three deep gashes on the side of her body, but they were clean and smooth, easy to bind and tend. The man on the bed next to the small child had not been so lucky; his back had been ripped apart, jiggered and raw. It had taken all three of healers to rescue the man from the grips of death. It took several minutes to calm the child and redress the bandages before Adva tucked her tenderly into the bed. 

Sighing, Adva pulled herself up and over to the water butt next to the door and ladle the cold water into her parched mouth. 

‘Adva!!!! Vivian sent me to get you! The Witcher arrived! Exciting, isn’t it?’ a bright-eyed woman squicked, sending the wooden ladle clattering to the floor.  
Adva harshly shushed the women as she pulled the shutter across the makeshift sleeping quarters. Originally, the healer’s hut was abandoned for most of the year, used when a bout of fever or illness passed through which was few and far between. When the devil arrived at their door, the city was not prepared, no official healer and no stock of potions, tinctures or bandages. The people of Brightwater went to either Cersi or Tradi for their aliments, those who could not afford them went to Adva. The hut was now depleted and not fit to house the injured citizen and certainly not with a shrill woman bursting in on her.

‘Very… the sooner this thing is sent back to whatever hole it crawled out of but keep your voice down. It has been a hard night; you wake them, you will kill them.’ Adva scolded lightly. 

Nesta of Perth was a good-hearted woman but one too fond of gin and pleasure of men, well as long as they gave her the fee of course. By the smell of it she had already been at the bottle, and the state of hair suggested that she had already been at her other vice. Once upon a time, she had been the daughter of a noble but upon finding the pleasure of the flesh, her life had taken a different turning from the expectation of being a wife and mother. Now she was a whore and a harlot, but a very well paid one at that. Nesta beauty was stunning, a pixie nose on a heart-shaped face, intense green eyes framed by feathered lash toped of the layered locks of mahogany hair. She looked younger than her years, could easily pass for a blushing virgin of 16, her body slender and firm with large breast openly on display in a tight corset dress of fine satin. 

‘If they can sleep peacefully through Tradi’s righteous rants and monologues they can sleep through me, getting a little bit excited about this devilishly handsome Witcher. Bela saw him going into the Lord's manor, says he looks like a god, tall and broad. Exactly my type. Let's go see him together.’ Nesta pleaded with an adorable look on her face as she clutched at of Adva’s hands.

‘Anything that breaths is your type. I can’t leave…I need to make sure they are okay.’ The healer spoke softly.

‘It won’t do. Vivian has ordered me to bring you. The Witcher is to stay at the Tavern; I think the Lord doesn’t want any funny business so had paid for everything, even ourselves, Viv need you back… she was angry you weren’t back last night, she wants all of us ready and waiting. I, for one, will only be too happy to supply it, I’m sure he might even be persuaded to have a nibble at you, god knows you can use the coin, I don’t know how you live. Working as a maid, singing and healing are never going to make you have a comfortable life. Why not let Viv auction off your virginity, she might even get that Witcher to buy it, I'm sure he needs to be entertained.’

‘Speak for yourself, if he wants to be entertained, he can do it with the girls that are already there. I have told you and Viv before. Besides I cannot leave, there will be no one to look after them.’ Adva rolled her eyes at her friend, gods she loved her, but they wouldn’t be more different. Nesta sort out the intention of men and Adva avoided them. 

The Mahogany whore rolled her eyes and wandered over a large chest of draws and settled upon it, skirts riding immorally high. ‘I thought Tradi was supposed to be taking over from you? How come you still here?’

‘He didn’t turn up, but his only a day late. You know how he doesn’t like to be pulled away from his crafting.’ Adva laughed as she watched her friend dangle her to fit in the air, like the child who watched their mother flit around her kitchen.

‘Well, then it lucky for you Cersi was in the town centre with Viv. She sent Tradi off with a flea in his ear; I saw him matching across the square with a sour expression on his face, not that he has any other expression…’ Nesta laughed, and Adva could not help but join in. Tradi was an unbearable ponce but good at his craft which made him bearable, especially to the recent violent epidemic. 

Their merriment was cut short when the door burst open, and a man appeared at the door. A deep stubble graced his face giving him a defined look; some would call him handsome, other beautiful but it was hard to take in his exquisite feature with an ugly look of annoyance that stained his face. Once a prominent sorcerer at the court of powerful kings but no reduced to being a simple town mage, cast off from the guild. Tradi didn’t acknowledge them but marched pas and ripped open the shutters. 

‘I take it from Cersi insistent demand that I come a relieve you; you have managed to kill someone. Can we not leave you alone for more than a day before you go running for help. No wonder Lord Fagen refused to send you to Lodge of Sorceresses.’ 

Adva glanced at Nesta who gave a silent snort as she hopped off the draws and straightened her skirts before grabbing a corse grey cloak and slipping it around the healer's shoulders and raising the hooded against the bitter weather outside. 

‘It was soooo nice of you to come and relieve Adva, even though it's your dicking turn, so graceful of you.’ Nesta snapped sarcastically, weaving the healer to the door, ignoring the mages murderous gaze. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
Nesta walked through the streets of the town, dirt had already covered an inch of her new embroidered dress, as she jumped over a rather large muddy puddle she observed her friend as Adva tugged her grey cloak tighter around her body. It was a shame that she didn’t want to become one of the girls at the tavern, Adva reminded her of the old pictures that her father would collect, classically beautiful, ethereal, Vivien would joke that if one was to look too deeply into Adva eyes, they would drown in the limpid pool lost forever. It was a tale the madam would purr into the ear of travelling merchant to entice them to relieve their pockets of the coin, Sirens of Brightwater she would call them, for Adva she wondered if that was true. Often, late at night, when the toil of the day was done, men snoring safely upstair, balls empty and stomachs full, Nesta would trot downstairs for a nightcap and her and the other girls would sometimes keep Adva company as she tended to positions or prepared balm and ointments for the customers of the tavern. In those nights sometimes she found herself staring into Adva’s eyes finding herself lost, waking only when the spell lifted. Sometimes time she would be talking to the group in the kitchen then find herself in her room, standing in darkness with no idea how she got there and not a drop of gin had passed her lips. 

The tavern whore dodged a pie seller as he barged through her calling his wares, the city centre had never seemed so busy, families lined up the street and women leaned out of windows, even the respectable ones seem to be dangerously dangling their assets for all the world to see, Nesta was sure that word of the Witcher rugged good looks would spread fast. For the most part, Adva seemed to be unaware, her hood shielded most of her vision, but something hung heavy in the air, and it was not the pies, something different, an earthy smell, spiced with something Adva could not put her finger on. The young healer followed her friend as she marched with determination through the thickening crowd. With a sigh of relief, Adva pushed her way through to Cersi who stood a fair distance from the podium; she was smiling up at the stand, a genuine smile then lit up her face, a shine that was on equal to the diamonds that adorned her neck. 

‘Adva! I am glad to see Tradi final relieved you of your post. Vivian has been frantic with a need for your tender manner. It seems Vivian isn’t as good a cook like you, my dear.’ Cersi beamed as she held her hand out in a greeting. 

Adva could not help but smile up at the woman; she had an infectious good nature. But there was an odd edge in her eyes, a deep concern with an unwavering gaze but her curiosity was diverted by Vivian the raven heard temptress. 

‘And why should I be? I have made my way in life on my back in the bedroom, not on my feet in the kitchen.’ Vivian bite out appeared through the crowd and standing next to her. ‘Once this wretched place gets of that… thing, the order will be restored and business as usual. How are you, Adva? You look tired.’ Vivian asked tenderly. ‘Soon you’ll be back with us, might even help take some coin from the Witcher.’ 

Vivian was a middle-aged woman, the bloom of youth had withered and died long ago, but still, she was considered a handsome woman. The fine lines that were carved into her face had not detracted from her beauty. Always wrapped in corn gold cotton, hair curled and placed into an elegant top do — a mother figure to the girls but a first and foremost a businesswoman. 

Adva smiled at the women before observing the crowd who were captivated by the podium, nudging each other and whispering, eyes darted toward the wooden structure in the middle of the square. Fagen Brightwater looked on at the crowd, while one of his guards whispered in his ear. Adva eyes glided over to the bulking figure next to the lord; he was clearly several inches taller than the rest of the men, a set of broad shoulders and muscles that strained against leather amour and fitted tight against his body. Tanned skin glowed against the dull figure flowing hair of purest white and glowing amber eyes. A violent vibration took over her mind, and an immense pressure gathered at the bridge of her nose, the feeling overwhelmed her sense to the point she was only slightly aware that Lord Fagen had begun to address the crowd.

Blinking rapidly Adva tried to clear her mind of the dense fog that seems to decent upon her, in slow motion, her eyes followed his eyes as they scanned the hoard of villages with an intense gaze. Pulling her hood down, Adva’s could now see the full figure of the Witcher, as soon as the hood fell the golden orb zeroed in on her as he inhaled deeply, his chest rolling primally. The penetrating scrutiny of the Witcher’s stare forced the curly-haired healer to cast her eyes downward. There was a heavy air that surrounded her that made her dizzy; she felt drunk; her body felt light and lethargic. 

‘Adva…. Adva’ a voice called in the distance. 

Raising her vibrant aquamarine eyes, they meet the warm brown of Vivian’s eyes. ‘Gods she is dead on her feet. Nesta takes her back to the tavern. Get her to bed straight away. No arguing, she needs to be at her best, the Witcher will be at work tonight, we best be prepared.’

Nesta looked at her friend with a critical eye, she looked half-stunned, it surprised everyone when she led the girl away without any defiance, Adva was too dazed to argue and let herself be led through the crowd without a sound or a glance back at the golden orbs. 

‘Interesting.’ Cersi cooed as she continues to watch the Lord give his rousing speech about unity and the promise of the swift and bloody revenge at the hand of Geralt of Rivia, who remained stoic and deep in thought, but the tell-tell signs of deep shock where his wide eyes as he looked on ignoring the confused annoyance of his companion. 

‘Interesting? More annoying…Curse that Tradi, if he had followed the agreement Adva wouldn’t be so frazzled she looks like she had been run over by a cart. Look I need to get back, sort this shit storm out, can you keep the Witcher entertain for a couple of hours, take him to the healer's hut, take him to the armoury, take him to the god damn beauty parlour if need be, just keep him out the way till I sort out this shit show.’ Vivian growled as she marched off after the girls. 

Cersi rolled her eyes at the furious madam’s panic and continued to watch the Lord's epic speech that finished with a flourish. The crowd cheered and applauded and departed happily singing out their praise and love for the Witcher and Fagen, even the chorus of Toss a Coin to Your Witcher could be heard as the peasants made their way to their home in preparation for the night to come. A night of barring their windows and hiding under the tables. 

‘Ahhhh Geralt. Long-time no sees. We have much to discuss.’ Cersi purred brushing invisible threads of her cuff as she smiled at her old friend.

‘Hmmm’

‘Hello pretty lady. I am Jaskier, Geralt’s personal bard. Can I interest you in a drink?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much! 
> 
> I never dreamed that this story would get 80 kudos and 8 comments! Please keep them coming! You have made me new year.
> 
> If there is anything you would like to see please just let know. Jealous Geralt I hope will emerge soon, just trying to plot that out.
> 
> Please leave a review xx


	3. Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE  
Geralt followed the golden-haired Mage with an intense brooding. The sky was beginning to darken, and the streets were almost deserted apart from a few stray stragglers who watched as they walked by, the others were drunks who swayed where they stood, to fascinated with their rum bottles to take notice of the trio. It had been many years since he had last seen Cersi, she had still been at the court of King Lidwig, her lover, it had been many years since his death and her self exile from court life. Hiding in this backwater town, away from the war and the troubles of the outside world. She had led them to a ramshackle building in the middle of a market street; the wood was worn and old, pitted by time and the weather. The smell of moss seeped out the pores of the place, mixed in with the smell of herbs and smoke but all undermined by that sweet smell of apples and the ocean. The mysterious women and her smell. She was here. The woman in the market must be the other healer, Adva, the girl Fagen warned him off of. 

Inside was much like the outside. But the scent of sweet and fresh salty water was much more intense it permeated the room soaked into every piece of cloth, every piece of wood, every piece of stone. The hut was a long room, a large fireplace that flickered lowly above a brewing pot of burning herbs filling the room with the smell of rosemary and nettles — poor man purifying herbs, unusual. Why would the Mage’s use these? More importantly, what was in need of purifying? 5 bodies laid inside on campers beds, cramped into the space meant for 2, all sleeping deeply. A man sat on a desk laden with apparatus that has all been pushed careless to make room for an ornate leather book that he was feverishly reading. The man was of handsome feature, soft jawline lined with a thin stubble across his dark skin and dull green eyes. As soon as he saw them, the short man stood and thrust the book into his exotic satchel etched in magical symbols. Geralt narrowed his eyes at the unfamiliar man with interest before his eyes once again rested up against his old acquaintance.

‘Tradi its nice of you have finally taking responsibly for your duties. Tradi of Browdon, Geralt of Rivia. Geralt is an old friend back in my courtesan days, come to sort our beast problem.’ Cersi spoke uninterestingly, cocking her hip to the side as her eyes ran over the patient lying motionlessly in their beds. 

‘Ahhh the Great White Wolf, an honour. If I can give you any assistance, my door is always open to distinguished guests. But I fear the beast we had here will be your match.’ Tradi bowed with a flourish and held his hand open to Geralt who remained unmoving. 

‘I think you should leave that up to the professionals?’ Geralt huffed out in annoyance. 

The male healer snatched his hand back to his body and narrowed his eyes in angry, raising his nose in the air in defiance. ‘I think you will find that I have a good range of experience, for 10 long years I was a head researcher at the Guild Sorcerers for dangerous creatures. I know many creatures and none documented have the power to rip through tissues and curse the blood with toxins without anyone seeing it. To vanish into thin air like it was never there.’ 

‘Hmmm’ Geralt grunted looking down at the arrogant man in front of him as they glared at each other. 

‘The child seems a little stronger today, that’s good the toxic seems to be withdrawing. Geralt this the latest victim found outside her home, father and pregnant mother died. Slashed and ripped, mother died straightway; it was the toxins that got the father. They are powerful magic of some kind, but nothing I have ever come across ’ Cersi called to the Witcher, pulling the rough blanket away from the girl's and loosen the bandages around her wound for Geralt to investigate. 

‘Claw marks, powerful beast, one long strike, indicates that the creature was moving when it delivered the blow, fast. Perhaps, a wolf, but the livers and heart were left. No respecting wolf would waste a meal. Hmmm.’ Geralt inhaled deeply, several times, having to struggle through the intoxicating scent of apples. ‘Hmmm, mountain moss. Only grows at the very top of mountains, no way a peasent family from Brightwater could come into contact with this substance, the creature must have tracked it in. Griffin then but never met a Griffin that had toxin in their claws. Not the style for them to attack villages, especially unprovoked. What have you been using to heal this blood poisoning.’

‘At first, we used Swallow, it took the edge off but too slow, healed the wounds but not the toxins going through their system. Nothing we could do but make them comfortable, we nearly lost this child 4 days ago. That is till Adva brew a similar healing potion using, limes, honey, dittany root and wormwood. And doubling the effect by burning rosemary and nettles. It has…’ 

‘That is something we need to discuss Cersi’ Tradi interpreted angrily ‘letting that simple-minded child lose on these poor devils. Burning rosemary and nettles, I wouldn’t use those herbs to heal an injured dog.’ Tradi huffed angrily. 

‘Well they are working, at it not like we have a vast range of supplies, we had no stock. Adva did the best she could with anything she could find. Your just jealous because they are working.’ Cersi glared at the other Mage, with rage in her eyes. 

‘Jealous of that orphan wretch. No match for the Great Tradi of Browdon…’

‘If he was so great, then why did he get kicked out of his Kings court.’ Cersi gritted out in pure venom. 

‘I will not stay here to be insulted by the Whore of Court…Good day’ Tradi snapped, clutched his satchel to his chest and flouncing off into the distance.

‘Well, that was awkward.’ Jaskier stood wide eyes as the door clattered close. 

‘Forgive Tradi. He is a grumpy old twat, but so would I be if I was as untalented as him…so Geralt have you figured out what it is yet.’

‘If I were to put money on, I’d say a Griffin, but never seen on giving of toxin scratches.’ 

‘Well, whatever it is I am sure you’ll get to the bottom of it. Lord Fagen has sorted out lodging at the Tavern of Carnal Appetites… well, that what the merchants call it. It is at the end of the town, looking over the port, can't miss it. Afraid I won't be able to take you there, one of us has to stay in the hut, and as Tradi has gone off it a hissy fit, it falls down to me. Adva works at the Tavern; she will be able to help you if you have any questions or need supplies. You best hurry, I hear they are putting on quite a little party for you two some of the best whores in the land at your disposal.’ Cersi smoothly sighed, giving a half laugh as the bard escaped through the door without her having to finish her sentence. ‘You have an interesting one there. No good in a fight but I hear the songs are excellent, never heard of a Witcher with their on songwriter before.’

‘Is this going somewhere Cersi? You know I am not one for half-hidden questions and answers.’ Geralt quipped as he folded his arms as he learnt against the stone mantle of the fire. 

‘Ahhhhh that is the Geralt I have missed… Let me be a little more straight-edged. I felt what happened in the square; I can sense your questions and your confusion.’ 

‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’ Geralt shrugged. 

‘Oh, Geralt. I am far older than you so don’t try to lie to me, I felt that energy bond being created. I have seen some soul bonds in my time but never with the couple never actually touching or meeting. For a bond link, this to be created is unheard of. From the reaction of poor Adva had must have been a powerful one; indeed, I had to send the sweetling home.’ Cersi was no fool; she had been waiting for this for a long time. Truth and honestly she did not think it would be Geralt, the white wolf that would stumble across the little healer, that was a surprise, not much of one given recent events. It did, however, threw some unneeded confusion into the pot, muddied the water, that was a concern, she would need to rectify that quickly to make the process as smooth as possible. 

‘I vaguely seem to recall your friend at the square; she probably inhaled too much rosemary and nettle.’ Geralt face remained impassive, but his golden eyes swirled.

‘Vaguely recall? I’m surprised about that; you didn’t take your eyes off her. At one point I thought you were going to jump off the stage carry her off to your cave.’ Cersi teased, moving over to wash her hand in the basin to the right of the fire and Geralt. 

‘As I said, no idea what you are talking about, I think you have spent to much time away from court, you're losing your edge. Witcher’s do not get soul mates.’ 

Cersi silently observed the Witcher out of the corner of her eye for a long moment as she scrubbed her hands. ‘Well, then, I must be mistaken. You better catch up with your friend. Give my love to Adva; I hear she is making roast lamb.’ Not looking up as Geralt left without another word. 

Cersi waited several long moments scrubbing her hands thoroughly before picking up a dagger from beside her and adding a few drops of her own blood to the water, watching as the deep red liquid dissolved in the clear water and a bright light because to ripple across the basin. The Mage waited and waited until a familiar figure replaced her own reflection. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
‘Geralt of Rivia, you are most welcome to our fine establishment. If you require anything, and I mean anything, please let me know… Our Sirens of Brightwater are at you and your friend's disposal. I reserved the best table for you here’ Madam Vivian greeted, fanning herself with a garish fan as she indicated to a velvet-covered table in the middle of the room. 

‘Hmmm,’ The hulking Witcher replied as he surveyed his surroundings, scrunting up his nose. 

The smell of the room was overpowering, intense perfume and oils to overpower the smell of sex and cum that lingered underneath. Sweat and body odour where another murky smell that offended his nose, he would prefer to be covered in selkie guts again than have to endure the nauseating smell. The only thing that made the room tolerable was the hint of crisp apples and the fresh ocean breeze — an undercurrent of pleasure in a sea of disgust. Ignoring the offered table, Geralt marched off to a bench table in the corner of the room. It had a good view of the bar, which a heavyset man, dressed in beautiful clothes looking very uncomfortable tended to. Hired security doubling as staff, interesting. Geralt ponders as his eyes again searched the room again. 

On the opposite side of the room, there was a large hatchway window opening up to the kitchen, the girl from the market flittered around the room tending to two large lambs turning on a spit, basting it with herbs and what smelt like lemon, occasionally she would pass a hunk of meat to the boy turning the spirt who would guzzle it down immediately with a gapped tooth grin. Her skin was pale, but a rose flush dusted across her cheeks and chest. From this distance, even if he didn’t have Witcher's eyes, her eyes sparkled dangerously in the light of the coals, creating hundreds of little stars staring back at him, a gentle smile painted on her lips. Every now and then a patron would wander passed, throwing her a greeting or stopping to chat. She was a short, curvy thing, meaning she would have to learn across the wooded serving platform. Causing the blouse, she had over her bodice to give way a little, and the onlooker caught an eyeful of creamy cleavage. Rage filled his vision as he watched the men jeered and whispered behind tankards of mead with offensive jokes. Part of him, a big part of him, wanted to pull out his sword and slash their throat. Feel the warmth of their blood pool against his skin.

‘This place is amazing!’ Jaskier roared gulping on his goblet of wine, a woman sucking upon his neck already. 

Geralt ignored his friend who busied himself with devouring a woman mouth as her hand explored the regions of his pants. Instead, he busied himself drinking mead and watching the young kitchen maid. Her face was partially hidden by the curls that mopped around her head, dark roots that faded into a honeyed blonde; they bounced about her as she dished up plates of meat and cheeses. Geralt amber eyes remained on the figure of the girl as she hummed softly as she worked, but the Witcher saw the dark circles underneath her eyes, and the effort the woman had to put in as she moved. Geralt eyed her with concern as he felt the wavering force of magic filter through the air. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
Geralt was on his third mead when the Madam of the tavern reappeared and made her way over to her favourite girls. Nesta and Bela huddled in the corner of the room. Nesta let her hair loose, brushed to a healthy shin, a deep split in her bodice ran down to her navel, showing off her pert breast and slim waist. To her face, she had applied a thick band of charcoal to create a smokey eye, and a faint shimmer of blush to define her cheekbones. Bela was to the left of her, a taller, slimmer woman, dressed in a forest green dress, she was older, nearing her 30s, but still kept an athletic figure, men liked her for the thin body she possessed and girlish charm which she played to her advantage. They had spent the last hour as requested by Vivian watching the white-haired man quietly drinking.   
‘How has he been? Has anyone taken his fancy?’ Vivian mumbled from behind her fan. 

‘No, he just keeps looking at the wall? Maybe he doesn’t fuck on the job? Maybe he needs to keep his stamina up or something’ Bela spoke is a sultry whisper, pouting at the thought of having to wait.  
Bela was one of the newest girls, but she also had almost 10 years on the rest, the madam thought it is employing someone more mature might have given her a little more brains, it seems that there was little to be had in her. 

‘A Witcher is mutated, has several times the stamina and strength of a normal man. I think one fuck would set him up for a night of hunting. I think perhaps he has a type.’ Vivian purred following the man's gaze. ‘Get Adva to bring the food to the table. Tell her to be accommodating. ’ The madam gave both the girls a big grin, and she grabbed a pitcher of mead and made her way to the table and began to fill the silver tankard without asking, eyeing him discreetly and gave a smile as he eyes never wandered far from the shy kitchen maiden.

Bending down she whispered low into his ear ‘You have a good eye for women. However, that particular girl is just a mere servant…though, I am in the middle of persuading her to sell her virginity. There has been a lot of interest in Adva, such a good-natured girl, gorgeous, especially when out of those rags. Inexperienced, would need someone to break her in. If that is something, I can tempt you with; I would be happy to keep you in mind. I'm sure she would be an honour to accept your offer. I was thinking 50 gold coins’

‘The only thing I want to break in is a leg of lamb.’ Geralt growled lowly, aggressively, through gritted teeth.

Vivian scarlet smile faltered, and an ugly sneer replaced it but as quick as it appeared it disappeared, replaced with a strained smile. ‘Of course,…. Ahh, here it is now. Adva, please give the Witcher extra attention, make sure he has everything he needs.’ Vivian cooed at the young girl before flicking her fan up and swayed away. Leaving the golden eyes and blue eyes to meet.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adva ached. Her body felt heavy with the want of sleep. It the haze of everything that has happened at the square she had only managed to splash some water in her face before Vivian had put her to work, prepping two full lamb, soup and cakes, she hadn’t even had time to make sense of what occurrence earlier. The connection between the two felt intense, heavy and energetic. In the back of her mind, she was aware that Witchers were the vessel of magical force due to the mutations that their body was put through, since the attacks she had become tender and raw to the chaos around her making her extra sensitive. It must be why he was affecting her so much! It was nothing, she was sure, she doubted the Witcher even felt it, it was paranoia. 

‘Adva…Viv wants you to personally bring food over to Witcher. Be nice; I think she has something planned. Tread carefully’ Nesta whispered across the hatch, as she passed. 

Panic surged through her as she stared wide-eyed at the opening; she hadn’t been realised that the Witcher was here. That was good right? It meant that everything she felt was it her sleep-deprived head. With her faltering strength, she carved off a leg of lamb and ladled the sizzling juices onto a wooden bowl with the cooked vegetables, wedging that under her arms while picking up another tray laded with cakes and cheeses. As quick as she could she matched out to immediately be hit by an overwhelming scent of spice, wood and mint. Usually the tavern smelt of perfume and lavender, but the smell faded into the background for this wintery warming fragrance. The anxiety seemed to melt away, and her heart slowed, and an overriding sense of comfort as she made her way through the crowd of laughing people. The girls were strategically placed throughout the establishment, Vivian was a wise woman, made it her business to know the indulgence of her customers to please them and ensure they kept spending the coin which is why she was surprised to find the Witcher sat alone in a dark corner. Even before she saw him, she could feel his eyes burn through her, those circles of fire that swirled followed ever her every movement. Vivian was standing next to him, giving her her sternest look before she greeted her and departed to a safe distance to observe. 

‘Sir your meal’ Adva tried to smile as she placed the heavy platers around him, her arms sighing with relief as they were unburdened of their bounty. ‘Is there anything else I can get you?’ She tried to smile, but the penetrating stare he held was daunting, unwavering and powerful, which is why his first words surprised her,

‘Dwarven Spit.’ 

So they finally meet! The next chapter will be there meeting and little action, as requested by one of the readers. How are we finding it? I am trying to stay true to the character of Geralt, but he is damn hard to write. What do you think of the characters? And once again, if you want to see or want me to included anything, just let me know. 

Ps- In a couple of chapters time I think things will start to get a bit smutty between the two. Slowly to start with so if you have any ideas let me know :P


	4. Chapter 4

The noise in the tavern was loud, but even with all the rampant rodgaring and laughing Adva was very sure of what she heard. 

‘Dwarven Spit?’ She blinked down at him, confused. 

‘You are Adva, aren’t you?’ Geralt eyes piercing through her as she nodded dumbly. ‘Well, then I require Dwarven Spit to make the Thunderbolt potion.’ The Witcher spoke clearly, tilting his head as he observed her. 

‘Of course, I do, I have some Thunderbolt already prepared, Lord Fagen wanted it for his men when they first tried to kill the beast.’

‘Hmmm,’ Geralt observed her once again. It was the first clear view he had got off the being that’s scent overwhelm him. 

The women would barely come up to his chest; perhaps 5ft5, making him over a foot shorter than him, his mind couldn’t help but wonder about how his large body would cage hers as he moved over her, how easy he could manipulate her body with his massive form, consume her, possess her. But also how pretty she would look over him, riding him, his hands guiding her as she did, lush, full lips parted as she screamed and moaned, eyes wild. Adva had sparkling blue eyes, dark like the ocean in a storm, with flecks of silver waived through them, emotion breaming, that gave everything but revealed nothing. Her face was soft and pale, a healthy cream with a natural flush that travelled around her cheeks and down her neck, that peeked out over her flimsy blouse. Even under the ill-fitted garments that wrapped her, he could see a pear-shaped body, broad hips and narrow waist leading up to pert breasts. Easily a handful to play with as she rode him or to fondle as he pounded her from behind. Then there was her hair, dark brown hair in loose ringlets that faded into a dark gold, which would look attractive wrapped around his fingers as he was buried inside her or sprawled across his pillow or bounces side to side as she rode on the back of Rouche. Even in his fogged haze, there was a brief moment of comparison between Adva and Yennefer, Yennefer with her purples eyes and sweet scent, slim body, full breast and quick wit against the plump body of innocent Adva, flower of a merchant trading town with her shy glances and tender smile.

‘A healer, alchemist and a tavern maid… not something I would expect in a trading town. But not all trading towns have rampant Griffins wondering about.’ Geralt pondered, taking a hearty gulp of strong-smelling mead. 

‘Griffian…why would it be a Griffin?’ Adva questioned. The half-bird, half-cat creature did not have toxic claws or attack random towns, hell the town was not even near any mountains, she supposed that the nest could have been attacked or robbed but why it was terrifying this town, why now?

‘Sit down… eat with me.’ Geralt ordered, cutting into the lamb in front of him.

Adva hesitated, she didn’t want to sit down the Witcher, that dull throb was back between her eyes and her body ached, all over, but the glare that Vivian sent across the room to her forced her to sit across from him. Vivian was kind mistress but a harsh businesswoman, she took care of her own, but business was business and gods help anyone who stopped her getting coin. Geralt hacked off several thick bits of meat and tossed then to a side plate that he pushed towards her. Blood oozed from the meat, the buttery smell mixed with the lemon and rosemary causing her mouth to salivate. When had she last eaten? Honestly she couldn’t remember. Edgerly, she took a slice in her hand and started to devour it, the flavour burst in her mouth and she gave a satisfied moan, she felt like a beggar who had been given her first meal in months. Poking her plush pink tongue from between her lips Adva licked greedily at every drop of the salty meat juices, only to find the White Wolf staring darkly at her causing a tingle of some unknown feeling to surge through her. An embarrassed flush rose from her neck and turned her a rich shade scarlet. 

Geralt watched as the blushed travelled across her chest with a vast degree of pleasure, the hum of magic throbbed intensely in the air, he had never been on for tales of romance especial those of soul mates, but he made been a Witcher for many years and seen the power of them between the humans but for Witchers were just tales romanticised by people like Jaskier. There was an attraction, something he had never felt before not even with Yennefer. This woman was not even his type, too virginal and shy, bookish even. She was eye-catching for sure, could make a fair bit of coin in a place like this, or at least marry well; instead, she hid in the kitchen. Geralt was sure she could even persuade Lord Fagan to send her to train with the best mages in the world, yet here she stood cooking his meal, looking dead on her feet. Why?

For a while, Geralt busied himself with devouring his meal, he had too stopped himself from moaning with every bite he took, while his companion sat fidgeting in her seat. It couldn’t be helped that his mind filtered back to his naughty daydreams, how she would squirm under him as he slowly.

‘How do you know it was a Griffin? I thought they only lived high on the mountains?’ the healer asked quietly.

‘Because I am a Witcher, its what I do.’ 

There were several more moments of silence as Geralt demolished the leg of lamb, the girl staying almost perfectly still, like a poor little mouse who had caught the eyes of a passing snake and froze to the spot praying that the reptile would continue passing by. 

‘Know much about Griffins? Doesn’t seem the sort of thing that a small-town girl would know. I don’t think parents would approve of a sweetling flower knowing that.’ Geralt questioned as he pushed the plate away, leaning back against the cool stone wall. 

Adva observed him for a moment in silent contemplation; she had nothing to hide but her questions made her uneasy. Did the Witcher believe that she was hiding something? Adva had not even considered that the Witcher might want to investigate her, perhaps what was what the strange feeling that overcomes her, some Witcher power to make suspect reveal the truth. That was it, no other explanation for it. If she told him what he wanted this feeling would lift, and the man would move on with his hunt and leave her alone.

‘I was abandoned as a toddler, so I really don’t think they would care. I apprenticed with Tradi for a brief time and now I help the Lady Cersi if she requires. I have learnt a lot from both.’ Adva softly spoke, trying not to twitch under the intense, unblinking gaze of the man. 

‘Apprentice to the Great Tradi of Browdon such an honour.’ Geralt replied in a dry tone, Adva did not know to take it for sarcasm or not. ‘Hard to see why a hard-working maid would no longer be in his service?’ he uttered leaning forward in his seat, his face close enough to fell it hot puffs against his skin.

‘Lord Fagen didn’t like his treatment of those in his care and saw fit to move me, I end up here. Vivian housed me from the orphanage.’ Adva stated in a matter of fact, pushing her back against the chair in a bid to create enough space as possible between them.

‘Why not sent you to train you at the Guild of Sorcerers.‘

‘I assumed he isn't want to waste their time with someone with weak magic.’ Adva bit out, not going to the guild had never bothered her, she saw herself as nothing special, and she didn’t have a desire for power or gilded palaces being waited on hand and foot, it was tone in which he spoke, cold and with hidden meaning. 

‘I find that hard to believe; someone could use nettles and rosemary to fight off a vicious toxin seems like a powerful individual to me.’ Geralt raised an eyebrow, noting the hum around her had become agitated as it fizzled and popped nervously. 

Adva shrugged and remained silent, trying to avoid the scrutiny of his eyes. Whatever spell the gold eyes where wielding she wanted to end, it was consuming her, gnawing at her bones. Her skin was beginning to itch and prickle like from some fevered heat.

‘Or perhaps the noble Lord of Brightwater wanted you to himself, Madam Vivian seems to the intent of selling your virginity to the highest bidder, that if you even still have it. I can't imagine anyone staying pure in a place like this ’ Geralt prodded. 

It had all become too much, the look, the magic, the feeling creeping through her bones, fizzled and popped and it took all her control not to surge her power and pin him to wall and kick him square in the pants or kiss him, but she just enough grip on her sanity to raise elegantly from her seat and smiled ‘I will retrieve your Thunderbolt potion Sir; I’m sure you will want to get on with your hunt so you can collect your gold.’ Adva puffed out and marched her way back to the safety of the kitchen.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Geralt stalked through the streets, silver shield in hand, Jaskier cowering behind him, his only weapon a quill held in shaky hands. All the townspeople were barricaded in their homes — no sign of the creature. Geralt cursed under his breath as he made his way down a darkened alley, the scent of Adva still clung to his clothes, lingered on his skin, it was the faintest of traces but still enough to get him harder than steel, battling a monster was hard enough, but with a cock as hard as steel was enough to make him want to kill every man in sight. In the tavern, he had received several offers after Adva left, but the smell of her made it impossible too even consider the offers. It was like trying to persuade some to have a piece of bread after tempting them with a juicy roast.  
A hushed voice broke Geralt path of though. Elvish if he was not mistaken. 

‘Is that Elvish?’ Jaskier asked scribbling frantically on his parchment. 

‘Hmm,’ Geralt frowned.

The Witcher inched closer to a yard that seemed to be the source of the voice. The building was a little way off the main street, at the back of a large building. The Whitchers golden eye found a significant gap in the wooden fence and eyed the yard. It seemed to be a builders yard, field with scraps of metal and wood, large crates lay scattered around a cellar door. A figure stood behind a box as he mumbled obscure words, producing an ominous grey cloud. The medallion around his neck began to vibrate fiercely against his chest. Dark magic hmmm, would explain the toxic claws of the creature. Jaskier leaned against Geralt sword arm as he perched to look through the gap as well, earning a dark look from his friend. The man continued his spell for several moments till with a flourish he stepped forward and released a catch on the celler door.

‘Isn't that Tradi… what's he doing with that book?’ Jaskier whispers as a deafening crash broke through the yard.  
A magnificent Griffin broke through the doors, hovering silently above the man's head staring deadly ahead at the man, a grey cloud absorbed itself into the creature whose eyes turned a murderous red but remained still hovering in the air. Waiting. 

‘We have waste to much time; the Witcher has arrived. Kill Adva; I don’t care if you have to drag her out the whorehouse. Take her far from here and dispose of her. I will follow and take her book. Kill any person you see. This is my command.’ Tradi spat, snapping the book closed before disappearing into the night as the creature screeched into the air. 

‘Fuck’  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The night was quiet; the tavern had long fallen into silence apart from the odd giggling woman or the occasional thud of someone moving in the rooms above. The moon hung high in the inky black of the sky, illuminating the workshop. Adva worked tirelessly in the silvery light, even in the near darkness her eyes could make out every mark she penned in the large book in front of her, the young woman eyes only leaving the stiff pages of the old book to carefully eye the brewing potion on the hearth. The concoctions needed careful and constant attention which was enough to keep the women from her rest, though her eyes were heavy with the want of sleep. Honestly, she couldn’t remember when she had slept last but she couldn’t, that itch clunge to her skin, it gave her restless energy. Damn that Witcher and his strange magic.

Resting the quill in ink, she stretched, feeling the soft clicked of her tired joints. Standing she tended to the cauldron and checked the various herbs that were drying and added more of her secret elixir to the leathers soaking in the trough she had cared away in the stone floor. Her room was a converted scullery, a crooked room, far away from everything, drafty and damp but it allowed her privacy to study, the room held a small selection of books, mostly one she had managed to buy cheaply from passing booksellers, some gifts from Cersi and Lord Fagen. The Lord of Brightwater had been very generous in her education. It would not be dawn for a good few hours, and the potion was coming along nicely but slowly, she could make use of the next few hours and start replenishing the various wares she sold or organising her ingredients but instead, she pours herself a glass of weak tea and sat herself back in the worn chair, it squeaking and squalling in protest as she did so as she picked up her quill and began to frantically glide her nib against the yellowed pages. Adva had written no more than a half-page when a muffled cry broke through the silent night air. She could feel every hair stand to attention and the impending dread fill her body. Standing shakily, Adva moved to the small window in her room; it was only a couple of inches high and just peaked across the ground in front of the tavern. The only thing to be seen as the gentle grass dancing in the soft breeze and the shining eyes of two rabbits that had broken cover in the night to hunt for food.

Tentatively, she pulled open the squeaky door, cursing as its sound cut through the night's air. Casting her eyes about, the landscape looked calm and tranquil only the gentle breeze was felt. Then another cry caught her attention. It was faint but in the silences of the night sounded as if it had been screamed.  
‘Hello?’ Adva called out into the night, nothing or no one answered. 

The bush in front of her shivered in the night, rustling as if something thrashed gentle from within. Adva advanced carefully; her eyes wandered the landscape. Peering over the dark fern leaf to see a large pair of red eyes glaring back of her. Time was still, she wasn’t sure how long she stood looking at these glowing eyes, she wanted to scream but her voice caught in her throat. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind; she could run, hide, scream or shout, throw a blast of magic or a rock. All of the thoughts faded into black as the creature growled and slowly slid forward. A glistened claw snapped out and clamped down on her waist; the tip of the claws pierced her skin. 

The bird-like creature launched into the air, jerking her arm as it lurched into the air, her legs flailed helplessly in the air, and the ground disappeared from underneath her, eyes struggling to focus on something, anything. Pure evil seeped from the bird and fizzled against her skin; it felt wrong and dark. Her other hand clawed at its talons, her fingertips stinging as the sharp edge sliced into them, as she tried blindly to free herself in the face of the burning wind that attacked her face. After what felt like an eternity, the creatures movements halted as it let out a mournful cry releasing her from its steely grip. A soundless cry left her lips as she plummeted to the ground, her body jolted as it made contact with something solid. Opening her eyes, she came face to face with Geralt of Rivia, or at least that looked like him; deep black veins covered his face that was now a sickly white. 

Adva didn’t have time to react before she was dropped onto her feet and the Witcher removed his blade from behind his back swinging it a deadly swish as it cut through the air. The beast was ensnared by a thick silver chain, that it struggled and strained against, she could hear the chain groaning with every pull. Reality began seeping in; the Griffin had tried to kill her and still might. The creature burst free, shards of silver ricocheted across the field, the feathered cat wiggled its wings as it launched for the Witcher. The fight was a ballet, elegant forces as he twirled and darted across the grass, the roar of the bird and the swish of the sword-singing as it slashed against the talons. The travelling bard appeared from nowhere shouting encouragement as he rushed over her side.  
‘Yes, Geralt! Saving the damsel in distress. This will make a brilliant Ballard.’ The young man gushed at her. 

Adva felt her grip loosening on what was happening; it felt like a nightmare. One minute she was caring for a young child in the healer's hut than being interrogated by a Witcher who was now suddenly defending her with his life, his own personal bard shouting his praise from the sidelines. When her brain was finally able to catch up she found Geralt being throw again a tree. A wave of angry surged through her as his body splintered through the young tree, and the breast roared around as it charged around at the two petrified companions. In her angry Adva body reacted in a way it had never done before, she forced her hand to waved over the ground and summoned a ball of water that gurgled and thrashed as it ranged in the air, without a second thought she threw the ball toward the cat-like creature. The creature flew back with a terrible screech. 

Geralt readied himself its time to see the monster being pushed back with a bone crashing force of a ball of water. Adva stood in front of Jaskier or Jaskier coward behind her as the women eyes glowed a bright blue. The creature choked back water as its great talons scraped along the stones as in a deadly threat. Without a though, Geralt brought sword up above his head and sliced into the beast's wing, causing it to collapse on the floor then with lightning speed thrust his sword true to pierce the heart of the possessed creature, watching it sink to the ground.

With a grunt Geralt moved slowly he watched as her eyes returned back to normal, the aura around her was clear and bright, throbbing with energy and vigour, she smiled wearily at him which Geralt couldn’t help but smile back. There was a nervousness that took over her aura as her hand rung out in front of her. As he approached her mouth opened several times but no voice spoke out.  
‘You have got to teach me that…’ Jaskier panted out. ‘…Will come in useful when Geralt runs off.’

‘Water Manipulation is a rare talent among Mages…unheard of in healer.’ Geralt grunted.

Before Adva had time to reply a smash caught her attention, turning her head to observed her house in the distance, a bright yellow glow shone through the thin window of her room. Even in the pain that stung her side she was well aware she had not left any candles burning, she never did, her eyes were well adapted to the dark. Another hideous clattered sounded out and she flung herself up the verge the beast had carried her down and back into her room. 

Standing at her desk the Mage Tradi stood gripping a book from her shelves, starring angry at its pages. His hair was damp from sweat that glued his wavey mane to his forehead and neck. His green obs were wild and murderous as they turn to look up. 

‘Is this it? Is this your book? Where are the notes? The spells?’ he spat, hand flailing wildly with the book. ‘I possessed a Griffin, murdered those pathetic fools for this? A bunched of scribbled gibberish? What does it all mean? Tell me or ill have that Griffin pull you whore friends bodies apart slowly and make you watch!’ 

‘Tradi….’ Adva pleaded stepping into the room entirely. 

The man lunged aggressively; a sharp searing pain tore through her already exposed side. Where the Griffin had torn open her dress leaving weeping scratches, now were open in deep gouge. In Tradi’s other hand was her paring knife, a curved blade she used to prepare her potions, it glistened in the darkness, smeared with her blood. Geralt was suddenly there, his silver sword pushed under the Mages throat, the Witcher white teeth bared angrily. 

‘You possessed a Griffin that is very dark magic. Any last words.’ Geralt spat against the man's face, pushing him harder into the wall as the weaker man kicked and struggled against him.

‘You cannot kill me! I now possess the book of ultimate power. I am invinsa….’ The man crumpled to the floor as the Withers blade cut through his throat, almost severing his head from the body. Blood viciously spurted out across the room, coating Geralt with a healthy spray and he sheathed his sword and picked up the book in clasped tightly in the deadman's hand.  
Jaskier was now helping the young girl to her feet as she stared in horror at the deadmans body as its entire contest of blood flooded onto the floor. Her dark blue eyes rose to meet Geralt’s in a silent plea. It was only now that Geralt though of how young she looked and how small, something so innocent and tiny that in one brief moment it could disappear at the snap of someone fingers. The fact that someone as close as Tradi, someone she worked with could be a threat and not even realised the danger she was in. Or the fact she possessed something that made her a target, that was a deep worry at the core of his soul. 

‘He wanted one of your books, why? What is so important that is would cause a Mage to possess a Griffin?’ Geralt eyed her suspiciously. The woman appeared shocked and confused, her heartbeat pounding at the breast, the magic that surrounded her hummed softly calling to him, demanding his submission.  
‘I don’t…’ Her doe-like eyes pleaded with him for help understanding. 

‘You don’t expect me to believe that.’ Geralt spat, he temper flaring violently in him, whatever spell she had cast was driving him insane; he didn't know if he wanted to choke the life out of her with his bare hands or push her skirt off and fuck her against the wall, the emotions that he felt surging within him were conflicting and overwhelming. Not since a child had he felt such an abundance of feelings, not since that night, his mother gave him away.

A whimper broke from her lips as she cast her eyes down to her side, her hand pulled away from the dark material of her dress to reveal the thick layer of blood coating her hand. Geralt looked down confused, frozen in surprise. There was so much blood in the room the coppery smells had mulled together he hadn’t even noticed the potent smell of apples and ocean intertwined with it. The rage he felt at her had clouded his vision, blinded him to the blood pool into her skirts. emotions pounded in his chest as he watched the woman crumpling into Jaskier arms.

All your reviews made my week! Work was hell! Please leave me a review!!!!!!! They make my day!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tough week at work! Nothing has gone right. But I have been rereading your comments and I got the boost to post this.   
> I am still thinking about what to put in the next chapter- let me know what you think. I am really interested to see what you think of the OC and what the next chapter will direct her. I am a few juicy idea ;)   
> Please leave a comment and let me know how you find this chapter.

Geralt quickly snatched the women from Jaskier’s arms before placing the young women on what he could barely call a bed. It was a straw mattress lain against the far wall; her body was limp against him as he arranged her body carefully in an attempted to slow the bloodflow. The bottom of her blouse stained a rusty red as the blood slowly seeped from the opened wound.

‘Igni’ With the muttering of the word, a flash of light flickering on the dozen of candles around the room, washing them in a warm glow. ‘Jaskier are you just going to stand there? Grab me a cloth.’ Geralt grunted as he pressed his hand against the wound.

Jaskier pulled a drying cloth from a nearby rake and tossed it at the steely-eyed Witcher. Geralt tenderly soaked the blood with the rag, pressing it the wound to get a clear look at the offending incision. The golden eyes drank in damages. There were five claw marks that left thin veins of red against her porcelain skin, faint and light, they had started to clot, and the bleeding had all but stopped. Above the slivers of red, just above her hip, a weeping gash of blood poured from a gnarled wound. The knife had been blunt, and when the insane Tradi had lunged for her soft skin it tore and ripped. It was not a mortal wound, no organs or arteries damaged but the blood that seeped out of the slash was alarming. Cersi was across the town and even on the back of Roach there was no guarantee that she would not have bled out. Geralt could stitch her up or brand her with an iron to cease the bleed, but even with his mutant eyes, he could not see the damage inside. Even unconscious, her body was so reactive, a slight shimmer of sweat began to develop across her skin, and every muscle was tense.

‘Fuck……’ Geralt pulled back and fished a vial from his pouch. 

Uncorking the bottle with his teeth, he pulled back the cloth and tentatively poured the liquid on the bleeding. Swallow was toxic, he had never used it someone who was not a Witcher, but Geralt had been a Witcher for longer then he could remember, and the times he had heard it used the people died horrible deaths, burnt from the inside out. If they did their life was not worth living, driven made or deranged. The two men watched her skin bubble and shift as the wound sealed itself smooth, no rough scar tissue, just an angry patch of red. He let her eye search the area; just a few freckles dotted across her hip. His cat's eyes raced to her face looking for the signs, anything that could betray the damage on the inside. Gradually her body relaxed, melted into the thin mattress, sighing in contentment. 

It was only now that he let his eyes scanned her body. The clothes she wore where ill-fitting, hiding a feast beneath. In the commotion, her skirt had racked up bunching around her waist ,revealing smooth shapely legs, thick and chunky thighs. They travelled up under her potato sack skirt to a work of art, her waist was narrow, flaring out to round plush hips. Travelling up her breast stood firm, parting to the side as she lay on her back. Most women wore corsets, but her figure stood proud and firm, unaided but the amour like clothing. Her neck was graceful, swan-like, leading up to her face, her curls swirled around her like a hallow, the light highlighting the gold of her curls. Her face was peaceful but dark circle marred underneath her eyes, and her cheekbones looked hallow, dehydrated. Her beauty was mesmerising but confusing. Geralt was thankful but concerned. He wanted her to survive but he knew there was something, something strange. Nothing he had ever heard of could endure a Witcher’s potion. A less … no it wasn’t possible

‘Hmmm,’ Geralt hummed as he picked up a moth-eaten blanket and draped it over her exposed body.

Jaskier stared over at his friend. The white-haired man was staring down, pensive at the women on the floor. Witcher with a heart he mused. It would be a great song. Or bedding the grateful damsel in distress whom he rescues from the clutches of death. Even better. Jaskier turned his eyes to the man on the floor. The mage, Tradi, he was cold and death, throat cut open, twisted in anger. In his hand there was a heavily ornated journal, it was a deep purple with what looked like peals sown onto the cover and gold thread stitched into the spine of it. 

‘Well, what do we have here… he won't be needing this anymore. I could rebind it and put my song it …..I could even have is published. The Tales of the Witcher and the Bard….no the Bard and the Witcher.’ Jaskier pondered as struggled to release the book from the death grip of the corpse. Brandishing in the air in success. 

The scent of the pages hitting the air cause Geralt's nose to twitch. A mixture of sour milk, pig and decay. Human Skin. Without a thought, Geralt snatched the book from the victorious Jaskier, inhaling deeply he could smell it now. Some of the pages where old, 30 years at least, and somewhere new, recent, days old. Probably from the victims of the Griffin. A Mage would never use human skin; only the most despised magic was held on human skin. Old magic, evil magic that even Elves feared, not even using it when the humans massacred them. 

‘Geralt…. You get the join. A bard cannot live on his art alone.’ Jaskier whined, attempting to reach up to The Witcher. 

‘Human skin possess bad magic… igni.’ Geralt growled as the book remained unheard against the fire smell. ‘This must be destroyed properly, in a purifying ritual.’ Geralt bite out as he tucked it into his bag, his eyes training in on the girl.

Jaskier eyes followed Geralt’s. The girls stirred slightly and curled into the mattress; a pained hiss escaped her lips as she grimaced, brow furrowed. The bard's eyes soften, she was a beautiful thing, it surprised him that she would be working in a tavern which was little more than a high-class brothel. Adva looked almost childlike, innocent and sheepish, dressing in rags, making her look frumpy and older. She could be little more than 20, an orphan probably or sold to the tavern as a child, didn’t know anything better and properly wouldn't leave till she died, either and the hands of disease or a patron. But then again he had seen her throw a gigantic ball of water at the monster, powerful enough to stun to allow Geralt to strike the fatal blow. 

‘Will she be okay?’ the bard asked. 

‘Hmmm’ was the only reply that Geralt gave. As he wiped her brow of a kitchen towel found on the back of one a chair. The white-haired man crammed his bulking frame a ragged chaired she had in front of a large desk. The chair was possibly the nicest thing in the room, soft and padded; it looked like it had once belonged to a wealthy merchant, woven with vivid colours and threads. Settled down into the chair, the thin, timid legs at the bottom snapped causing the base of the armchair to hit the floor with a thud. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the glistening leather of a burgundy book, a journal that was too elegant for a mere kitchen maiden. Pinching it from the desk he examined it at the page it fell open. The words were curvey and neat; one letter flowed to the next if they could be called letters. It was not a language he had ever seen- not Elvish or the Elder language. 

‘Fuck’ Geralt growled, wiggling himself into a comfy position and stretching his long let out in front of him as he settled his eyes on the women in front of him, the book lying in his lap.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
When the sun was finally up in the sky, Geralt left the woman sleeping, watched over by Jaskier. Geralt was certain that the Swallow he had used would take to ill effects of her, she slept peaceful and undisturbed even though Jaskier strummed his lute and practised and pondered his new hit. The tavern was now alive with the sound of life; they squeaked and squealed about the sounds of last nights battle. When the sun was high in the sky Geralt, with sword in hand, struck the head of the Griffin ignoring the cheer from the crowd that gathered at the back of the Tavern. The Witcher made his way through the town; no one bothered him, the people cleared a path, the sight of him bloody and carrying a severed head was enough. The guards at Lord Brightwater’s manor stepped aside without questioning him. 

The Witcher found the way to his meeting room with ease. The scent of him was robust, old parchment and cheese, but it was mixed with another smell, the smell of Cersi, roses and honey, a sickly sweet smell that lingered in the air, temping. A smell mixed with the salt fragrances of sex. Sure enough, Cersi sat prompt up against a vase stand, looking at the greying lord as he busied himself with the accounts in the same dress as yesterday. 

‘I have slain the beast.’ Geralt uttered, dropping the severed head of the mahogany desk, causing the Lord to look up from his papers. 

‘A Griffin…you were right.’ Cersi grinned, cat-like as she moved to examine the head. 

‘Interesting… it looks like the creature was hit with a water blast of some kind….whats wrong with its eyes’ the mage questioned as she examined it. 

‘The price has doubled.’ 

‘I paid you to dispatch the beast, and you did. I will pay you the agreed amount.’ Lord Fagen gritted out, pulling open a drawer and tossing a large coin purse at the monster hunter, who caught it with ease.

‘Wasn’t as ssimplyas that, the best was being enchanted, controlled to stalk the people of Brightwater. I had to dispatch him to.’

‘Tradi’ Cersi winched as she sat upon the edge of the Lord's desk. 

‘You knew?’ Geralt snarled at the sorceress. 

‘I had my suspicions. Tradi was alleged to have been dabbling in dark magic, experimenting on his King’s people. The guild could never prove aanything, but it was enough to get removed from court. A mage without a king such a sad thing.’ Cersi shrugged.

‘Didn’t think to mention it before?’ Geralt nostril flared, as he looked at his friend with angry.

‘I didn’t have a lot to go on. Besides, I was quietly confident in you.’ Cersi spoke sweetly, playing with her blonde hair. 

‘Hmmm. Doesn’t change a thing, the price has doubled.’

‘It is out of the question. The town has been damaged far too much. We will need every coin to rebuild, better and stronger.’ The lord bit back, acidly. 

‘Now now, Fagen. Honest pay for honest work. Maybe we can bargain with Geralt. He is reasonable after all. There must be something that he wants. Or perhaps someone.’ Her tone was dripped in honey, but the inference was there, steel-edged and obvious.

There was silence between the three as they watched each other, ‘Tradi attached Adva. Wanted something from her. I will forgo the payment for Tradi for her. Her… powers would be helpful on the road.’  
The Lord stood and slammed his fists onto the desk, enough for the whole room to vibrate at the force. ‘I will not allow you to take here anywhere. She is safe here. Take your money and go Witcher. Before I call the guard.’ 

Geralt grunted out violent puffs of hot breath. Something primal within him howled at this man; a poncy lord thought he had the power to separate him from Adva. He was never one to be told what to do, especially when it came to women. The magic he felt between them was intense; he didn’t believe it was a soulbond, things were myths, told to doe-eyed girls to give them hope in the bleak futures married to ignorant or foolish men. But he would be damned if he let Adva stay here. The two men inched closer together, centimetre by centimetre 

‘Boys enough. Fagen…Love let me deal with this. I know what needs to be done. Go?’ There was an edge in her voice; it was forceful and almost harsh. The Lord slowly left, not before casting the evil eye at him . Awww the things a man in love will do. Geralt mused as the man slammed the door shut. 

‘Sleeping with a Lord now? Ordering the poor man out of his own chambers. Hmm,’ Geralt folded his arms, looking down at the women.

‘Fagen is… protective. He was the one who found her abandoned all those years ago. He never had children; I suppose he looks over her in a way.’ Cersi sighed as she stood, brushing her hands over her crumpled dress that had probably spend the last night on the floor, before moving to the desk and pulling out a long dry bit of parchment.

‘Then why not adopt her? Why send her to apprentice at Tradi for him to abuse or to work in a whorehouse.’ Geralt snapped.

‘It is complicated Geralt…Sending her to Tradi was a mistake, caused this nasty situation. You need to take her away… far away. Take this’ Cersi spoke with a tired voice.

The parchment in her hand was a certificate, a certificate of service. Such documents were standard among orphans, women placed in service till they where 25, past from one owner to another. Only when the orphan married or was old enough was the person free, that was why most only lived very short terrible lives. 

‘You want to help?’ Geralt was no fool, Cersi was a excellent mage but not without her own motives.

‘I don’t think Brightwater is the right place for Adva anymore. She seems to have outgrown it. You can buy Adva from Vivian, 500 coins should do it, and the young sweetling begins the new life together with an honourable Witcher. How long are you going to deny your bond? Take her with you there isn’t a force in the world that can keep you apart now.’ 

‘I don’t think Adva would be very happy to find her being sold from one person to the next. I don’t think she had a very good opinion of me after our first meeting. I have known you too long. What are you getting about this?’

‘Maybe not but entwined destinies will stop at nothing. Soul mate is soul mates Geralt, you know better than to mistrust fate. I am merely trying to stop your mistrust of emotions from killing you both. But heed my warning take care of her Geralt or dealing with me will be the least of your worries. Come you need to leave soon.’

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
A hot sensation was the first thing she felt. Searing. Groggy, Adva woke, her body ached, and the right side of her body felt tight like the skin was too small for her body. Light pooled through the narrow window and onto a vicious read stain that smears from one side of the room to the next. It looked like…blood. Tradi. God, what had he done? Anxiety rose within her, eeverythingflooded back to her. The gods the glowing-eyed Griffin, the pain, the evil look that consumed Tradi’s features, the knife, the cut. Adva’s hand flew to her side, blood-stained clothing remained but no wound no scratches. She felt the pieces of her knife from Tradi hands; she knew she collapsed. After that, she had no idea. 

‘The sleeping beauty is awake; you gave us quite a scare. Never seen Geralt so worried. Watched you will the sun broke in the sky.’ The companion spoke as appeared from nowhere.

‘I…What….Thank you…’ No word would work or seemed appropriate. 

‘Jaskier…humbled bard at your service.’ The brown-haired man bowed with a flourish causing her to laugh.

The bard had a kind face, that was permanently smiling, even at the town square he looked happy, approachable, warm; a contrast to his friend. Adva couldn’t help but smile at him. Sitting up she cast her eyes around her room,; bookspulled from shelves, pages torn, most she never got to read, she had been trying to learn the ccommonlanguage, it was hard and so different from what she had been taught, she had been so close, but now it seemed impossible. Casting another glance around the room she spied broken furniture, herbs and potions spilt onto every possible service, it broke her heart a little, she had very little and what she did have was precious to her. Now she had nothing. Her blues eyes fell to her desk; her book was gone, the one thing she had from before, the last thing she had of them, her family. Tradi must have taken it… but the witcher killed him — the Witcher. 

The man's voice broke through her thoughts as raised voices filtered through the worm-eaten wood. An argument, she felt the vibrations of the voices rather then what they were actually saying. Jaskier seemed to hear them too, as he inched towards the door.

‘My mother always told me it was rude to eavesdrop, why don’t we go and watch. I bet Geralt is going to cause a fight, he always does. Come on.’ The singer squeaked excitedly as he broke through the door. 

It all honestly it was the last thing she wanted to do, last nights events had drained her, but she wanted to know what was going on and if the Witcher had her book. Standing caused her to groan, her side was on fire, red and inflamed, whatever they used worked, skin smooth and as it was, but whatever it was was slow to heal whatever damage was on the inside. Hobbing forward, she braced herself along the wall and down the hall to the main tavern. 

It was still early, and few had graced the parlour, the only ones in the room were Vivian, Nesta, Cersi and Geralt. Jaskier perched on the sidelines. Nesta wrung her hands nervously, eyes widening as she saw her, instantly rushing to her, her light irises searching her face before she hugged her close, hard.

‘You must run. Vivian is selling your service to the Witcher. Take this. It not much but all I can spare. Take it an run.’ Nesta whispered into Adva’s ear while pushing a handful of coppers into her dress.  
Adva pulled back, and eyes wildly followed her friend's frown. A joke surely, but the concern that burnt in Nesta’s eyes was real and true. They were as close as a sister and looked out for each other. Adva would brew potions and balms to help with overactive clients, keep Nesta healthy and pretty and Nesta would mother her, keep away unwanted advances. 

‘550 is our final deal’ Cersi spat.

‘It’s a deal of 550 coins. I’ll sign her over. Pleasure, I will be happy to take her back when your bored of her…. She can be a bit of penny pure pants, it attractive in a way but get a little boring after a while.’ Vivian purred and she strolled away, jiggling a coin purse as she went. 

‘Cersi! How could you?’ Adva gasped, backing towards the door, wincing as her tight skinned pulled around her healing skin. 

‘Adva my dear… I didn’t want you to find out like this. Please understand it isn’t what you think… it will become clear soon.’ Cersi walked over pleading, pulling on of her hand into her own.  
Snatching her hand away and stood back. Adva couldn’t help it, but she felt disgusted, she knew what happened to most of the orphans who were sold, they would go from one person to the next, most didn’t make it to 25. Slavery was what it was, just because she had no family, she had survived Tradi and she didn’t want to know what was worse than him.

‘Don’t touch me. I thought you were my friend… I am not going anywhere with anyone.’ Adva hissed. 

‘I am sorry. I hope you will not hate me for this. Take this with you. It will help you understand. Please forgive me.’ Cersi pleaded, pushing a book into Adva’s hands. 

Adva stared at the book for what felt like ages. The Witcher- A history. Turning her head up again she opened her mouth to speak, to argue, to plead but as soon as her eyes met Cersi’s a cloud of yellow flew out of hands, and she inhaled a lungful of bitter herbs, sour and nasty. The room spun, and her eyelids felt heavy, her feet could no longer support her body. The last thing she saw before her vision fell black were Golden orbs and the fate sound of a voice.

‘Take care of her Geralt. If not for her sake for yours.’

‘


	6. Chapter 6

Jaskier glared up at the man on the horse. Geralt has been his usual brooding self, riding atop of his trusty stead, the only difference since leaving Brightwater was now his had company in the saddle. Thrown across the worn brown leather, a sleeping form burrowed into the Witchers chest. The mop of curls fanned across her face hiding her, as she slept dreamlessly. Geralt had wrapped his cloak around her, as he lifted her up to sit side-saddle on his lap as he rode, protecting her against onlookers who sought to catch a glimpse of flesh. Dresses not being the most appropriate to ride in. The bard felt conflicted, Geralt was his friend, but he had just witnessed the Witcher buy a person from the inn. Not just a person a young women. 

He was observing the side of her face that peeked out from her tightly wrapped form. The girl looked younger than him; her face was softly defined, innocent and pretty, more than pretty, striking, the type of girl who had suiters painting her likeness to try and win her hand or writes her poetry, now she was slung over a Witcher’s saddle, nestled against his chest.   
‘You just brought a person. I can’t believe it. You brought a person.’ Jaskier finally screeched into the air. They had been travelling for more than five days, his mind preparing an elegant argument, demanding to know what was going on, but instead, a splutter of words fell from his lips. ‘you actually brought someone. You do some pretty dark shit, questionable things but you have never brought a person. Let alone a girl. What are you going to do with her? Actually don’t tell me, not actually do, no don’t. I know what happens to those poor orphan girls. I just can’t believe you would buy one…’

‘I brought her freedom, bard.’ Geralt grunted, looking down at the snuggling girl.   
The Witcher looked down at the sleeping woman, whatever Cersi has blown in her face had rendered the women into a deep sleep, but he could see signs that the substance was lifting, but there was enough space between Brightwater and the road they were on to deter her from running off. Adva shifted and mumbled something indecipherable before she repositioned herself in the crook of his neck, her lips brushed against his golden skin, sending a shiver of pleasure down his body. The last two days had been pure torture, to feel her warmth through his thick armour was the worst suffering he had ever endured, he wanted nothing more than to strip them both of them of every stitch of clothing and feel skin upon skin. Geralt groaned lowly as her lips ghosted over his skin. The sooner he reached Kaer Morhen, and Vesemir, the better, whatever this bond was between them was not something he knew of, it was unknown territory and therefore dangerous. Geralt only wish was that she remained asleep till they got there.

‘What… so she is going to be free, you freed her… actually freed her. She can leave… get on with her life.’ Jaskiers face broke into a bright smile. ‘I knew you wouldn’t do a thing like that; there is a place in Vevan that we could leave her, a friend of mine owns a tavern… said he would leave it to me one day ha! Rosemary and Thyme, it is a decent place, she would be looked after there.’ the singer gushed.

Geralt ignored the bard and rode on a few more feet till he came to a perfect patch of land and dismounted, carefully to stop the girl from falling as he went. Letting her slide down the saddle, he carried her bridal style to the foot of a tree. Gentilly, the hunter, brushed a stray curl behind her ear. His shark-like eyes followed her features, pale honey skin and plump pink lips parted with a soft snore. Geralt smiled tenderly as he rubbed his calloused thumb over her parted lips.

‘Bronn is a decent man; he will keep her. His son is about her age; you never know it could be fate. Would make an interesting song.’ Jaskier grinned plopping himself down in the stump of a tree.

A vicious growl rose in the monster hunters throat. ‘She isn’t going anywhere, Adva is staying with me and not going near any tavern owners son.’

‘So she is free…to stay with you.’ Jaskier gawked.

‘Hmmm.’ 

‘Geralt… you have been hunting monsters too long, your beginning to act like one. Adva is a person, living breathing women, whom some dark wizard tried to set a Griffin on and then got sold and knocked out with weird powder. How do you think she is going to react when she wakes up…. She is going to wake up, right?’ 

‘Listen to me Bard and listen well.’ Geralt gritted out as he menacingly took a step closer. ‘There are things happening that you cannot comprehend, things that even I don’t fully understand. Adva will be staying with me till I figure out what is happening; whether you like it or not, if you get in my way I will unseem you balls to brain, understand…. I liked you better when you didn’t talk, the last five days have been bliss.’ Geralt grunted as he laid out his bedding and carefully tucked Adva in. 

Jaskier eyed him with care, the grump side of him was expected but never this…hostile. The singer watched as Geralt pulled the blanket around her shoulders, never in the entire time he had known the cranky man had he seen Geralt this tender, aside from Ciri, but this was different. Even with Yennefer, there was not this level of this…sweetness; the care was considerate and almost loving. Geralt was sure to put her on his bedding each night they stopped, kept the fire going and rubbed a cooling lotion on her side. Adva’s side was healing nicely no longer the harsh crimson. The singer watched as the monster hunter pulled a dead leaf from the mass of curls before he stood adjusting his sword on his back as he moved.

‘I am going to get wood, keep on eye on Adva.’ Geralt grunted as he marched off into the wilderness.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jaskier strummed his lute idly, and his eyes lingered over the sleeping form. The fading light brushed against her hair softly; it made her appear angelic, she skin glowed lowly, she was indeed stunning, swan-like neck leading to a voluptuous figure. A million questioned threw through the singer’s mind; this girl seemed normal, innocent, just another girl caught up in the mess of the world. But nothing was as it seemed, he saw her launch a blast of water at the Griffin, saw it attach her, saw Tradi madness that consumed his eyes, even in his dying moments that rage still filled his mind. 

The bard began to hum along as he plucked at the chords, brows furrowed as he stared at the sleeping form as she stirred before snuggling back down. Jaskier had lost count of the years he had known Geralt, and he trusted him, for all his menacing and boarish ways, and despite his protest, Geralt always did the right thing because at heart he was a hero and that is why Jaskier trusted him. Jaskier trusted Geralt not to do anything underhand but there was a niggling feeling in the back of his mind, something he couldn’t put into words. The thought slipped from his mind as a soft gasp caught his attention as the swaddled figured bolted upright.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adva blinked, her eyelids fluttered several times as the world in front of her came into focus. The sky above her was transitioning from day to night; the light was just descending into darkness. The trees where willows, the leaves were dangling over her, gently dancing the wind above her. The women pressed her eyes together as a pinched pain throbbed at the bridge of her nose.

Groaning, Adva pushed herself up on her elbows sleepily taking in her surroundings. It was a clearing, surrounded by a dense wall of foliage, vivid greens and soothing browns. Across from her, the young poet from the tavern stared at her with wide, terrified eyes. Pushing herself up further the blanket she had been enveloped in fell to her waist, and the sweet scent of spiced wood bombarded her senses.

‘Your awake!’ the bard exclaimed as stood placing his lute against the fallen tree he had been resting on.

‘Where am I?’ Adva said shakily, eyes narrowing at the man who stood hesitantly as she unsteadily stood to her feet. She felt as weak as a newborn calf; she managed to make a couple of steps before her legs gave up from under her. Jaskier lurched forward clamping his arms around her, as they collapsed in a pile. 

Having his crouch pushed up against a plush butt was something Jaskier enjoyed immensely and the squirming made the sensation all the more pleasurable. After all, he was a man and the position would make even the most devoted man feel something but Jaskier, though he was many things was a gentleman. Squirming out from under her, he was able to pull her up against the fallen tree and flop back next to her. 

Adva roughly rubbed her eyes as she tried to get her world back into focus; her mind was a flurry of pictures and noise. The last thing she remembers was… Tradi, the Griffin… gods the Griffin…. Her side and then Cersi and the Witcher and that weird powder. 

‘Oh, my gods……Oh no…no…no’ Adva hissed as she tried to stand. 

‘Shhhhhhhh shhhhhhh please be quiet it okay!’ Jaskier cooed. ‘Geralt…Geralt….. Gods sake where is he…how long does it take to collect some firewood.’ Jaskier muttered to himself.

‘Be quiet! Be quiet; you kidnapped me!’ Adva snapped scrambling to her feet, resting her body against the tree and her legs become slowly accustomed to taking her weight.

‘Well technically… Geralt brought you….’ Jaskier rambled before the words died suddenly on his lips as he was stared down at the furious blue eyes of a woman enraged. 

Adva grabbed the first thing she could lay her hands, the silky wood of the neck of the hazel lute and swung it half-heartedly at him before her chest began to heave dramatically. 

In her entire life, she had never been outside of Brightwater, her own little world, safe and comfortable, till the Griffin invaded it and god knows what Tradi had to do with it. Panic surged through her, bile rising through her throat which she swallowed back down. 

‘Put me lute down… I have had it since I was 12…please...’ Jaskier begged, holding his hands out in surrender.

‘Where am I?’ she demanded. 

‘We are in Kaedwen… well near Kaedwen.’ Jaskier stated inching closer, earning a harsh glare and the instrument raised slightly higher, causing him to take a step back. 

‘ Kaedwen?... Kaedwen that is almost a weeks journey from Brightwater…How….How long have I been asleep?’ Adva didn’t need an answer the pity in the man's eyes was enough to tell her all she wanted to know. Cersi had put her to sleep to allow some Witcher to carry her off into the world with some paper that essentially made her his slave. 

‘I need to go….I want to go back… I am leaving.’ Adva whimpered as she lowered the lute, which Jaskier snatched back and pressed it to his chest like a mother with her child. 

‘Thing is…Geralt.’ Jaskier sighed in relief as the hulking figure of the Witcher silently emerged from the bushed with an extensive collection of sticks and logs. The white-haired man froze as he saw the shivering figure of the curvy brunette. 

‘Fuck…’ Geralt cursed as he dropped the pile of wood and clicked his fingers with a crisp, satisfying click. ‘Igni’ and with the single word, the fire roared to life with a crackle and a spit.

Geralt had thought the powder would have lasted for another couple of days, despite all Cersi’s skill her dreamless slumber powder was well below par. Geralt growled deeply as he stood to his full height to survey the small women, her clothes were dishevelled and ragged from the 5-day ride, feature tight with terror as she looked between both the men. A soft tugged pulled ar his heart as she stumbled away from him as he stepped towards her, the smell of fear thick in the air.

‘How dare you!....Take me back right now.’

‘I don’t think, so me baeg yn.’ Geralt purred as he stopped in front of her.

‘Take me back right now; I am not something you can buy and sell. Take me back home.’ Adva snarled, angry filled her eyes as a laugh rolled through his body.

‘Do you really think you have a home now? Tradi set a creature free to attack the people of your city because of you. For some silly book. Your friends sold you to me without so much as an ounce of hesitation. Is that somewhere you want to go back to. Even without all that I still wouldn’t let you, if Tradi suspects something about you, something that he could use others will find out. You wouldn’t want to put others in danger…do you?’ Geralt purred in his usually velvet tone; one perfect eyebrow arched quizzicly as he looked down at her.

‘Geralt!’ The young bard shriek as he gawped at the Witcher.

Tears breamed Adva’s eyes; it was all too much. Everything had happened too fast she could keep up, it was too much to process. Everything she had ever known was gone, but if the Witcher was right how could she go back? What Tradi did was mad, he had always been obsessed with power and it was only so long before he did something like this, but Adva has never thought he would do something like that. The book was just that a book of notes, a journal of thoughts and facts, nothing to kill for. If there was really something more, something dangerous going on she wouldn’t be the one to endanger anyone.   
Silent tears rolled down her face as she dry heaved into her hand and crouched down against the log. Jaskier knelt next to her as curled his arm around her as the woman shook and gagged with anxiety, tossing the Witcher a scathing look as the singer attempted to comfort her as her world collapsed around her. 

Geralt eyes narrowed as he watched the cuckolding bard tended to the exkitchen maiden, a deep burn bubbled away in his gut and regret pricked against the back on his mind. This was why he didn’t talk; he only dug himself into holes. The white wolf opened and shut his mouth several times trying and failing to think of things to say to comfort. Rage simmered under his skin as Adva nudged closer into Jaskier’s shoulder as her gags stopped and her cries turned into little whimpers. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
me baeg yn- My Little One  
Sorry for going AWOL for so long. Hope this makes up for my absence.   
What does everyone think? I hope it meets up with expectation. Hopefully, the next chapter will have some significant Adva and Geralt interaction. Still working on how that is gonna work out. Once again if you have anything you want to see please leave a comment.  
I am working on Part Two of Fated Destiny if anyone is interesting.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back baby! Work from home has given me some time to spare to write again! Just such a shame it has come to that! I hope everyone is stay safe and not struggling to much! It is manic out there.
> 
> Please let me know what you think!!!

Geralt’s cat eyes followed the two walkers with predator-like focus. A deep growl pushed itself from his chest as he watched Jaskier knock his shoulder against the women gently as he told her another tale from his repertoire. The Witcher’s eyes narrowed as the Adva chuckled weakly and attempted to push him back. For the past three days, they had been travelling through miles of muddy roads and dense woodland; it was beginning to take its toll on the young women’s body. Despite Geralt’s best efforts Adva refused to join him on his horse even though he could see the slouch in her figure and the exhaustion in her features as they travelled. It took all of Geralt’s free will to stop himself from yanking her up, throwing her across his saddle. The smell of apples and the ocean was teasing him; he needed it closer; he wanted to bury his face in her neck and drinking in the heady scent. It was craving, a need, a yearning, burning him from the inside out.

In the darkening sky, there was a dim glow in the near distance, a small town. The Witcher surveyed the town for a moment before returning his gaze to his new travel companion. She had been subdued since her eruption the days previous, choosing to ignore his presence and focusing on the babbling bard. 

‘Geralt…Geralt there is a town...wine…meat and beds. Think about it…real-life beds. Soft, fluffy warm beds. Come on Geralt lets stay the night. We might even find a new tale...or at the very least, a warm bath and a change of clothing.’ Jaskier prodded, shinnying his best puppy dog eyes at him.

Adva look up silent at the two men, there was almost a playful banter of faux hated from the older man. In truth she didn’t care where she slept, a bed, a muddy hole on top of a bed of nettle as long as she got some rest, her body ached, literal ached, she was used to being tired especially in the last weeks in Brightwater after the attacks, but this was on a whole other level. The sort of tiredness that seeped into your bones and made you eyelids feel like lead. Adva wrinkled her nose, the clothes she wore were stained, bile rose in her throat as she runs her hand over a sticky rust colour stain on her dress, a mix of hers and Tradi’s blood. It was only then she realised she hadn’t had a change of clothes since Brightwater. The same dress that has a massive slit in the side where Griffin’s talons caught her, an overshirt had been pulled over the bodice, and her old cloak flung round her. It covered her modestly, but she dreaded to think what a state she looked. She hadn’t bathed in a week, no hairbrush or fresh clothes, she had nothing, every possess she had ever own was gone, everything she owns was currently wrapped tightly around her body. Tears welled up in her eyes.

Staring up at the Witcher, she could feel his heavy gaze on her but refused to look away; instead, she shifted uncomfortably on her feet. It didn’t take a Witcher to see the line of water collect against her lashes. Casting his golden orbs back the town he sent his jaw in a tight clench as he urged Roach onwards.

‘Hmmm’

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Heavy spices filled the air, sage and rosemary, cinnamon and nutmeg. Merchants voiced echoed through the street as people rushed from one place to the other, in a rush to get the last of their supplies before darkness fell. Upon reaching the town gates, Geralt dismounted his horse and led him through the dwindling crowd. People parted allowing the trio to slip through, edger eyes cast upon them, intrigued at the white-haired hulk of a man.

Jaskier pranced across the ground, strumming his lute softly, making the pretty young girls laugh behind their hands as he blew them kisses. Adva fell as little way behind the pair, eyes scanning the town stalls as she went. People chatted and bartered with the tradesmen; carts served the busy people with spiced ginger cake and pies as they rushed off home, the hearty smell of soup lingered in the air. A low rumble bubbled in the girl's stomach cause a pale blush to spread across her cheeks as the Witcher turned slightly, watching her out of the corner of his eye as a seller pushed his wares. Jaskier was on the other side of the street purchasing spare lute strings and bathing salts from an overly busty young woman. 

Flashes of vibrant colour caught her eye. Rich pinks and orange against the vivid blues and reds. Rolls of cotton, silks and velvets in every colour imaginable. They were hanging against the wooden frame where a full range of garments, headdress, bands, girdles, overcoats, cloaks, tunics, gowns and dresses. The blue eyes searched the overladen walls that hung various outfits. Fingering the soft cotton of a deep red dress, she traced the simple gold embroidery design that framed the lace corset of the bodice. The next thing that caught her eyes was a dark leather underbust corset, with a cross-hatched design. Never in her life has she seen such a garment; women in the brothels often wore such a thing but made of flimsy silk or whalebone to tuck and frame their waist and push their bust-up. This, however, was a work of art, probably made for lady judging from the quality. Next was a basic blouse one in royal red and the next in aqua blue, in the softest cotton. 

‘Ahhh madam, you have excellent taste…those colours would complement your skin…madams’ figure is exceptional… perhaps a tighter corset, it would empathise your hips and waist.’ A chirpy deep voice cut in. 

Out of nowhere, a large jolly man bounded in her eye line. The merchant was dressed in an elegant doublet, in a brilliant shade of emerald green. Fine white whiskers framed his plump red cheeks; a large belly jiggled when he laughed. The violent greeting almost made Adva flinch back in shock, but his large friendly smile relaxed her tense shoulders. The old man waddled over and lifted up the dark leather corset and inspected it with glee.

‘I pick up this little thing in Nilfgaard year ago…it belonged to a master craftsman…see this leather work he almost went blind making it. I could not part with it to a lesser specimen of womanhood.’ He gushed as he held it up firmly against the curly-haired woman. 

Adva shrieked back as the man touch, bumping into the broad chest of the brooding Witcher, who glared down at the pudgy old man.

‘Ahhhh this must be your husband… such a handsome couple…perhaps I could persuade you with some undergarments for the lady…’ the man winked up at Geralt as he pulled out several nightgowns. A simple thing, of plain sheer cotton cut in a princess style. Followed by a short lacey thing with a silk ribbon belt. A deep red blush moved across her face as Geralt peered down at the man with an unwavering gaze.

‘Geralt…Adva…where are you? I found a tavern!’ Jaskier bellowed. 

With a sigh of relief, Adva darted off toward the tavern, leaving the orange eyed man behind.

‘By gum, you gotta good one there…a homely figure, a good hand full there’ The man crowed as he hung the garments back on the rack.’ 

Geralt’s eyes burnt into the merchant as he moved around the stall, minutes past before the silver-haired spoke. The man busied himself with plucking various garments from the walls of the stalls and folding them neatly into a bundle.

‘I need some clothes for my…wife. We left our last town in a rush.’ Geralt grunted out.

The man smiled up as she continues to fold what looked like a dress into the bundle. ‘I thought so… a husband like your self can’t have a woman like that dress in rags. These should do…’ the man smiled pushing the buddle across her.

Geralt glanced across as the bundle before his eyes danced across the stall. Never in his life had he taken an interest in women’s clothes, yes he appreciated the women who wore them, but as most of them end up on the floor or ripped apart, the wasn’t much point it taken an interest. However, in this instant, he took his time to access each item, ignoring the man grinning like an idiot behind him. He had seen her finger some of the items before and picked up the garment and throw them over his arm. Glancing around he examines the remaining items, there were several lovely dresses but nonpractical for travelling long and hard across the country. The golden-skinned Adonis picked some oiled skinned brown trousers and riding boots.

Geralt tossed 30 coins into the man’s hand as he picked up the role of clothes. Grunted at how light her purse now felt. 

‘ere take this.’ The older man grinned at Geralt as he tossed the underbust corset. ‘I’ve had this thing for five years, and I couldn’t let it go to a less worthy filly. You’re a lucky man, and she is a lucky woman don’t know many men that would toss down 30 coins for their woman. You must be quite enamoured.’ 

‘Fuck’ Geralt grunted as he turned and left in the direction of the pub. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adva sat in the snug of the pub nursing a small cup of mead from the pitcher Jaskier had brought before fluttering off after some barmaid with gorgeous Auburn hair and a pale, freckled face. The tavern was nice, large and open but most importantly, clean. Taking another sip of mead, she cringed as the yeasty drink run down her throat. It was sickly sweet and crisp in flavour but most importantly strong, the fumes for the drink along where enough to make her lightheaded. 

Sighing, she forced down another gulp and rested her back against the oak seat and closed her eyes as her mind wandered over past few days. It took all her will power not to let the overwhelming emotion to pour from her. The shock was beginning to wear off, and she flight between hatred and gratefulness, she still couldn’t get her mind around what happened or why. 

‘Well hello, little girl…looking for some fun?’ a voice roared drunkenly as his clumsy plopped himself down on the bench beside her. 

‘Hullo love… fancy coming outside for a bit?’ the man slurred as he sloshed his flagon around.

‘No, thank you. I am waiting for my friends.’ Adva wrinkled her nose as the overpowering stench of ale the attack her, attempting to push herself to the other end of the bench. 

‘That doesn’t make matta… they can join, well as long as they got nice tits.’ The man leered at her as he snatched his arm around her pulling her to him.

‘What do you think you are doing?’

Adva had never been so relieved to see anyone in his life. The hulking frame filled up the archway, his eyes were full of rage, burning away.

‘Nothing mate…Didn’t know she was your whore. Though mate I would have thought you’d have better taste…this one looks like she been dragged through a bush…though she properly has.’ A creepy laugh pushed itself through his teeth, making him hiss like a snake. 

The brunette cringed as he laughed; it made her feel unclean. There had been those sorts back in Brightwater, lecherous louts who often tried to pitch her bottom as she walked past.

Geralt cleared to the other side of the room in two long strides. The supplies cast across the table as his gloved hands crumpled as he lifted the letch off the seat by his collar. The man's feet dangled off the floor, kicking weakly as the skilled arms of the Witcher lifted him higher. Adva tensed, the look in his eyes was murderous, raw and untamed, a look that she had never seen before. 

‘You even look in her direction again, and I’ll gut you like the yellow-bellied fish you are.’ Geralt roared chucking the man across the floor where the landlord slammed down the pewter flagon he had been polishing to drag the man up.

‘Cumm ere Rodrol’ The older man grunted and pulled the young man by the scruff of his shirt and ejected him the muffled scream from the front of the door with a dull thump.

The landlord hurried over with some ale and a board of cold meats and cheeses, placing the offering in front of the pair with a grovelling apology before escaping promptly back to the bar. 

Automatically, Adva began pouring a dishing out the mean onto the Witcher’s plate; cheese was soft and crumbly with a sharp smell. The meats moist and juicy, beef, chicken and pork, serves with chutney and mustards and thick slices of brown bread. 

‘You know you don’t have to serve, you’re not a tavern wench anymore’ Geralt purred from deep in his chest. 

Adva cast her eyes down and retracted her hand from the jug and placed them by her sides. It was right; she wasn’t anymore; she wasn’t sure what she was anymore. Plucked up and removed from everything she knew, stuck in an unfamiliar town with the man who had uprooted her not a penny to her name. A pained groan fell from The Witcher’s lips, so soft she was sure she imagined it. His face was pitched and concerned as he gazed at her.

‘Where is Jaskier? The bard should have stayed with you.

‘He went to sort out the rooms. A young maid was helping him.’ 

‘Typical’ Geralt quipped, taking a gulp of a cup in front of him and wolfing down a thick slick of tender beef, a trail of juices travelling down his chin. Adva’s eyes transfixed as tongue darted out and collected the delicious droplet.

‘Look..’ Geralt swallowed a mouthful. ‘I got you some clothing… and a few other things you might need..’ 

The Witcher voice was impassively soft now, almost inaudible, the deep rough sounds that made her feel safe. In front of her, he pushed a large bundle of clothing. Adva recognised them instantly from the market stall, the lush red and blues in the softest cotton she had ever touched, brown shammy trousers and a pair of boots. Digging deep a brush and soap lay on top of the red dress and undergarments. At the bottom of the bundle was the beautiful leather corset. Never in her entire life had she had new clothes given to her, instead of living on hand-me-down and cast of given to her from the working girls, that she had to stitch together into something respectable. These were her clothes. 

‘These are for me, and I don’t need to do anything to keep the? No strings attached?’ Adva asked slowly, unsure and cautious. 

Geralt looked up and held her gaze as he ripped a crust of bread with his teeth and washed it down with the last of his ale and refilling his cup. ‘What do you take me for? They are your clothes.’   
Deep blue eye flickered across the expressionless face, her pupils darted to the deflated purse, no longer brimming with the coin from Brightwater. The Witcher had spent hard-earned coin to purchase clothes for her when he could have just thrown a pile of rags at her. No longer could contain the question that burnt at the back of the throat.

‘Why did you take me?’ the question sounded small, but it has the power to stiffen in his seat.

‘Because you weren’t safe there.’ 

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, Adva’s mind reeling as her mind process the series of event that lead her to where she was today.  
Carefully she asked her next question. ‘What Tradi did…the experiments… the things he did…Am I really in danger? Did he really do all those awful things to get to me? Did they all die because of me?’

‘They all died because Tradi of Brownstone was a cunt. People like Tradi want power, don’t care how they get it. That is why I took you, your safe with me. Most mages are so concerned with their self they don’t care who they step on to get it…or at what cost especially if it other people.’

‘Do you know many Mages?’ 

‘For my sins…and there are a lot of those.’ Geralt dryly joked as he shoved a chunk of cheese into his mouth. 

Adva smiled warmly across at him as she brought the clothing onto her lap to sort out. ‘Thank you… I have never had clothes like this. Thank you.’ 

Air rushed from her lungs as the man gave her a warm smile. It lite up his entire face, it was inviting, and a tingling sensation sparked across her body. It caused her to wonder why she had never seen him smile, most of the time he strutted around with a permeant scowl, the disdain that kept everyone at a distance. 

‘Aww fuck, don’t cry.’ Geralt growled, he sat straighter in his chair, looking alarmed. 

Reaching up, Adva was shocked when her fingertips met the dampness on her cheeks. Geralt was quick, so quick that she didn’t even see him move till she felt him thick arm awkwardly curl around her shoulders, pulling her body to his. A strong pulse on energy ran through her, and her heart slowed, and the nervous anxiousness that she had been carrying round in the pit of her stomach for the past three days disappeared. 

They sat like that for a few moments while Adva dried her eyes, he scent was comforting, spice, ginger and cinnamon and cedarwood, she could get drunk of the smell, and subconsciously she felt herself melt into his arms and his arms tighten around her nestling her into his chest.

‘Ahhhh Geralt that is where you are. A tiny problem with the rooms. The tavern only had one room available. The delightful Griselda has selflessly allowed me access to her bed chambers, but you two have got to make some arrangement… should be too difficult seeing how you to cosy up as soon as I let you out of my sight.’ The bard sang playfully as he slid into Geralt old seat.

Jaskier settled himself down and picked at the tray of food I fronted of him and poured his cup of ale. Adva moved away out of Geralt arms and instantly became fascinated in her cup, taking small sips as Geralt glowered at the man in front of her.

‘Oh Geralt there was a man asking about you’ Jaskier mumbled his mouth full of cheese and meat.

‘Who?’ Geralt bite out.

‘Him’ the bard pointed as he stuffed another slice of pork into his already stuffed mouth. 

Adva cast her eyes across the sparsely populated tavern to a group of three men, cautiously glancing at them. The trio stared suspiciously at the men as they whispered to one another. They were men of quality, at least for this small town, clothes of good quality, fur-lined cloak and full leather boots. Geralt’s hand inched towards his sword as they made their way across the small room. 

‘Ahhhh Geralt of Rivia it is an honour to have you and your wife into our unworthy town.’ A middle-aged man greeted bowing lightly. ‘We hope you and your wife has been well looked after…we have something of a problem that we need help with.’ 

‘How much?’

‘Wife?’


	8. Chapter 8

Three men gazed down apprehensively at the Witcher, who in turn stared unblinkingly up at the men. Out of the village, Tolstoi, Bradger and Miska had been nominated to plead with the Witcher. Tolstoi was the oldest, at plump age of 55, he still owned all his teeth and only owned a few white strands of hair. A blacksmith by trade, born with a hammer in his hand and will properly die with one in his hand. In spite of his age, his body still heads the thick muscles of his youth, maintained by hard, honest work. The second was Bradger, the town miller, the second eldest at the age of 51, he had come from the next village, when he married the town clerk’s daughter, Bethany. Despite being four years younger than Tolstoi, his hair was complete grey and receding rapidly at the temples, his frame over-ripened with the freshly baked cake and bread he prepared. Finally, there was Miska, the town treasurer, the youngest and the smartest. Thick wavy locks of gold-framed his face, golden skin finished off with deep green eyes. The robes he wore where immaculate, well made for a man of his position. The University of Oxenfurt educated, that was till the war and like so many idealistic men had gone off to fight, and somehow he had survived and ended up running out the last of his days in a small backwater town. 

Miska cast his eye toward the glowering man. Even seated, he almost fell at there shoulder, the armour was reinforced, and old and two large swords lay to his left, fingers tentative stroking. His companions were interesting. A young man, looking no more then 20 sat scribbling of a wad of parchment, the youthful feature makes him an appealing sprite, dressing in a cavalier fashion, flamboyant and attractive. The women, on the other hand, was intriguing. Fresh-faced and innocent. Shapely brown eyebrow frame deep blue eyes, soft pink lips parted in a pleasing smile. Her clothes were shabby, dirty from the travel she no doubt had to endure. The clothes seller, Olso, had said she was the Witcher’s wife, a much-loved wife for if anything was taken from the Witcher buying her a king’s ransom in clothing. 

In honestly, she wasn’t what he expected, he expected a heavy breasted whore, with the dress so tight she burst through it. Instead, he was met by a curly-haired beauty. Young and innocent-looking, with deep bags under her eyes. 

Miska's eyes narrowed as they came back to focus on Geralt of Riva. ‘100 silver pieces, is that enough?’

‘Depend on what the problem is.’

‘Drowners’

‘How many?’ 

‘I could lie, tell you a lesser number…but 50 if not more.’ 

‘Hmmm, I admire your honesty, a characteristic seldom held by treasurers. I tend to find those who control money untrustworthy…200.’

‘120’

‘150’

‘…deal’ Geralt thrust a gloved hand out and one by one, each man shook his hand. ‘Take me to the pit. I need to see what I am up against.’ 

Miska nodded frantically, a soft hum vibrating up from his throat, and she thought. ‘Acceptable…Acceptable. I will have Tom set up accommodation for your…friend and Wife. He only has one good room but…’

The youthful man cut him off, looking up from his writing. ‘I won't need a place to stay, a… generous citizen has already offered me the use of her bed. So beauty is her soul that even stars are jealous.’ Jaskier gushed. 

‘…right..Well, I will have Tom make up the room for you and your wife….I’ll have a hot bath prepared for her…’  
‘Actually…’ Adva cut in. 

‘My wife will be going straight to bed; she is exhausted after her travels.’ Geralt cut over. Standing. ‘I will meet you by my horse, and you can show me this infestation and don’t touch Roach.’  
Miska nodded slowly look at the frowning women but obediently left the couple to their argument. 

‘I am not your wife.’ Adva hissed. 

‘It would be best if they thought we were. I don’t think that you want another incident. I’d hate to have to start gutting men.’ Geralt rumbled lowly as he stopped to her level.

The woman’s eyes darted to the main room of the tavern, seen through the archway of the snug. Barbaric, snarling men pushed and roared at each other while, beer and ale being sloshed around the sodden floor as young barmaid dodge past groping hand a shiver of disgust run down her spine. Adva’s eyes snapped back to the swirling ginger orbs in front of her, his brows were downturned in concern, and lips get in a firm line. As much as she wanted to slap his controlling face, the logical side could see the reasoning behind it. She had seen the very worst things that a man could do, most of the women turned to the whoring lifestyle because they had no male protection and either way they would be subjected to the savage nature of man, at least at the brothel they would get paid for it.  
Adva nodded slightly, watched as the mirth re-joined his features and the dimple in his cheeks flashed a toothy grin. Geralt stood to his full height, towering over every man than with a good foot to spare. Adva had to look away to stop herself from ogling the way his leathers tighten around his body as she moved and the way he though the saddlebags of his shoulder without so much as a strained groan.  
‘Stay vigilant. I will be back soon. There is a dagger in the bag.’ 

‘Don’t worry Geralt Ill look after her.’ Jaskier smiled glancing up at the white-haired man. 

‘I was talking to Adva’

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Water cascaded over pale flesh as Adva pour another jug of steaming water over herself as she massaged the hair oil into her tangled hair. Once she was satisfied, she dunked her head under fully before resting herself against the warm brass of the tub. Jaskier had abandoned her for freckle ginger woman with the kind smile and come to bed eyes, leaving her to crawl into a warm bed. The bed was the softest Adva had ever slept in. A large double bed with feather pillows and thick down blankets, within a minute she had fallen asleep, much to the amazement when she awoke the next morning, she had thought she would be up worrying about the Witcher’s return. When she awoke the sun held itself high in the sky, most of the town had probably been up for hours, but Adva was determined not to feel guilty as she lounged in the warmth of the water.

Geralt has still not returned as a surge of fear bubbled inside her, but it meant she could indulge longer in the soothing silkiness of the water without interruption. It gave her a few moments of peace to mull over the raging thoughts in her head. Part of her was beginning to understand, Tradi had always been a horrible, abusive man but she had never thought him capable of such a malicious act. Then again she never thought Veronica would sell her and to a Witcher, who despite buying her like a common whore on the streets had been caring a diligent in his care, catching and roasting her rabbits to eat on the road and buying her more clothes that she had owned in her entire life. 

The feeling that surged within her collided with such ferocity it made her dizzy it forced her to sink into the depths of it till the only part of her body visible was the surface of her face. She could just leave, Geralt wasn’t holding her prisoner, but if she did leave he could find her, no matter how well she tried to hide her track, he could sniff out the faintest of traces. If what he had said about Tradi was right, she would be a danger to everyone around her. Tradi has always been after power, but the length he went for her book was unthinkable. The book was the last thread of who she was, the elegant handwriting in an unknown language that only she could decipher. It wasn’t even as if she or that book where that important, just nonsense scribbles Lord Brightwater hadn’t sent her off to be a mage and Cersi was perfectly happy just to let her hang around, learning from like a child on his mother skirt. Her little bit of magic was nothing compare people like Cersi. An ominous fear ran through her, what if Geralt had taken her with him to one day run his sword through her.

Adva’s eyes snapped open as the bathtub began to vibrate across the floor, spheres of shimmering water began to swirl above her. Outside the perfect mid-day sky darken, the wind picked up and bellowed against the wall. The dying flames fought viciously with unknown sources of force as it ricocheted across the room. A shrill gasp escaped her mouth. The orbs of water came crashing down with an almighty splash. 

Wiping the water out of her eyes, Adva looked around, the room was completely normal, apart from a few puddles of water, the only evidence of what had just happened. Leaning back against the tub, a deep dread overcome her, what was happening to her? 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adva wallowed in the water till all warmth had disappeared and she forced herself to leave the safety of the water and wrapping her body in a fluffy towel sitting down at the makeshift table as the door quietly knocked and Jaskier’s companion for the night, the auburn-haired beauty popped her head around the door. 

‘Oh, my lady Rivia your up.’ The girl bobbed lightly in a makeshift bow as she fully entered the room.   
The brunette smiled lightly as she looked at the girl. ‘It Adva, I’m no lady…and you don’t have to bob to me; I’m not some noble.’ 

The girl hesitated in the doorway as she observed her with curiosity; both women looked at each other for several long moments before Adva cut the awkward silence.   
‘Can I help you with something?’

‘Jaskier sent me up to see if you were alright… he thought you might be homesick or struggling to dress. He is such a caring person with a beautiful soul.’ The women gushed as she attractive flush caressed her cheeks as she swept into the room fully, obviously high on whatever budded between her and the bard last night.

Griselda keen eyes searched the women in front of her; the women looked much better than the night before. Pale skin freshly scrubbed, revealing a healthy glow and soft ringlet had begun to form. Her figure was now revealed from underneath the frumpy clothing she had arrived in, she was short and curvy, broad hips and small waist. The bust was full but pert. It was clear to see why the Witcher would marry her; she was stunning, otherworldly the way her skin glowed. The women seemed sweet, kind but shy, not a type that a man like a Witcher would normally go for.

‘Right let's get you ready…your husband has been mooching around since the earlier hours of the morning’ Griselda cooed picking up the brush as beginning to comb through Adva’s mane.

‘Geralt’s back? Why didn’t he come to bed?’ Adva frowned as the woman began to play with her hair.

‘He mumbled about not wanting to wake you up. That so romantic. My departed husband Merriweather wasn’t so gallant, day after our wedding he went hunting, came back clashing around in the wee small hours of the morning three days later, threw up and passed out snoring on the bed. Such a pig of a man, god rested his soul. I was lucky married off at 16 was too soon. I got left with a little house and my hymen broken in, left me to ponder the pleasure of the flesh.’ Griselda whispered the last part with a wink, running her hand over her shaking the freshly brushed locks in soft curls. 

‘Speaking of the pleasure of the flesh…what is it like to bed a Witcher? I have heard they go through mutations…does it affect their cock? Like is it longer or thicker? ’

‘I…I…wouldn't know.’ Adva spluttered, her face glowed a bright red. 

‘You’re his wife! Are you tell me you married the man without trying the goods? You have to try them after..?’ Griselda gasped in shock.

‘Ehh.. well… we only just got married, and Geralt is a romantic… he wanted to wait till we were in a comfortable place…till it was right.’ 

‘Ohhhh you poor thing… this is your honeymoon and Miska and the other idiots spoilt it by offering him a contract.’ Griselda pushed out her bottom lip as she rested her hand on her shoulder in comfort. 

‘But don’t worry me and the other women have our ways…we will have you in that wedded bed before you know it’ Griselda winked a mischievous green eye at her. ‘Till then though we will have to use your feminine asset till sending him int a frenzied heat, he doesn’t look like the kind of man who likes to be teased.’

Adva could barely comprehend the slip of a woman who looked barely older than 19 suddenly became this wanton advisor as she picked through the brother Geralt brought her and through the various garment at her. 

The person in front of her in the mirror wasn’t one that Adva recognised. Griselda had dressed her in a deep red blouse and rich brown trousers that cling to her every curve from her plump thick thighs to toned calves. The carved leather under corset gripped her waist empathising her figure in the most alluring way all finished off with leather boots with a small hill giver her figure a bit of lift. 

‘When I first saw you I thought you were pushing above your weight will a hunk like that but now I see it the other way around. Honey, you are going to drive him mad.’ Griselda purred with a devilishly smile.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was safe to say Adva had never felt uncomfortable in her life, and she descended the stair and headed towards the snug. Geralt was a hard man not to miss; he sat in the same place as last night, his hair pulled back tightly and look slightly dishevelled, as he growled at the te man from last night. 

‘…your lucky the drowner only gashed him…keep your men out of my way and let me do the job you paid for.’ Geralt growled, slamming his drink onto the table, sloshing the amber contents onto the wooden table. 

‘Sir… I think that it is best we do this methodically. Slow and steady, take them out one by one. If we don’t….’ Miska's voice trailed off as he noticed the two women appear behind the Witcher. 

Geralt could smell Adva before he could see her. The smell of her lingered in the snig of the tavern even with her tuck safely upstairs asleep. As soon as she opened the door, the Witcher’s senses were over some with her scent, it intoxicated him with its heady fragrances. Geralt kept his eyes on the man in front of him in annoyance, only glancing up when he heard her stand next to the table. Glancing up her had to do a double-take. Freshly bathed, she glowed, literally glowed, bright blue eyes sparkled as she stared down at him, her plump bottom lip caught between her teeth as he looked innocently down at him. Golden eyes wandered down her body as he took her in, a thick, shapely body greet him wrapped tightly in a burgundy blouse the crosshatched under corset laced tightly around her waist highlight her shape and giving the breasts an indecent outline as the blouse wast pulled tight against them. Geralt's eyes ogled her legs as skin-tight trousers covered them, giving him a perfect view of her body.  
Miska scrapping the legs of the chair on the stone floor pulled Geralt from his appreciations as the treasurer pulled out a chair for her with roaming eyes. Geralt stared darkly at the man as he curled a muscular arm around her pulled her down to the bench beside him, glaring at the man. 

‘Adva! If beauty be in the stars, you shall outshine all of the heavens’ Jaskier sung as he sat perched at the end of the table with his quill.

‘Is he drunk?’ Adva asked, concerned.

‘No, just an idiot.’ Geralt rumbled lowly, cause the woman in his arms to giggle loadly. 

‘Adva perhaps you can talk some sense into your stubborn husband. He wants to march sword in hand into the den of the drowners, sword in hand without any backup…’

‘I told you already; your men are a liability. They don’t know their arse from their elbow.’ Geralt growled.

‘There are too many of them. They cant be poisoned or attacked; they heal right up.’

‘That is why my silver sword is the best options. I can set fire spells that the beasts are vulnerable to…all I need is for you to keep your men the fuck away from me. They showed their competence yesterday.’

Adva became all two are of the tension in the room between the two men, feeling the way Geralt arms tensed around her waist. Griselda moved round the stand next to Jaskier filling his cup, who in returned kissed her hand sweetly. 

‘It is out of the question. If you die in this foolhardy attempt, we will be stuck with these creatures.’ Miska calmly stated, straightening out his robes.

‘Your concern is endearing, but I am a Witcher. I know how to kill drowners. You want me to kill off two or free a day, that would take months, all the while they grow in numbers as they drag more and more people to their graves.’

‘Miska, you are a treasurer, not a witcher let him do what he does. He’s impatient to get his honeymoon started. He was kind enough to cut into his nuptial celebrations to help us. Let him do what he does best.’ Griselda pleaded. 

‘Honeymoon?’ Miska frowned looking at the couple.

‘Yes, they have just got married. Leave them alone.’ 

‘I am sorry…’ A million thoughts passed through his head as he pondered upon this new information. ‘Maybe it would be best for you to do it you way. Good day then.’ Miska stood, kissing Adva on the hand as he left without another word.

Geralt’s chest vibrated against her side as he watched the man's form disappear. 

‘Ahhh jealous love. I’ll leave you three alone; I need to help in the kitchen….I’ll see you later’ Griselda purred, kissing Jaskier chastely on the lips. 

‘Newlyweds?’ Geralt smirked as Adva pulled away from his grip.

‘I panicked. She started to question me about…the thing?’ a deep blush filled her cheeks. 

Geralt’s arms burned with needed to pull her back to him but instead shifted closer to Jaskier to look at her fully. Her scent was so pure now it was obscene, that alone caused him to strain against his breeches.

‘Questions? What questions?’ Geralt teased, with a devilish smirk.

‘Just questions…. Can we drop it please, I'm traumatised enough.’ 

A few moments of silence passed between them, the only sound Jaskiers quill scratching on the paper could be heard above the low rumbles of the tavern. Geralt eager eyes taking in every each of his fake new wifes, her heavy breathes causing her breast to strain against the material hypnotising him.

‘Why don’t we set a silver charge in the cave, it would kill most of them and then you could finish the rest off.’ A small voice cut through the silence

The witchers eyes travelled up to rest on her face, ‘the silver fumes would weaken them, and the fire would kill most of them. It means you would have to take them all on at once.’

‘Hmmm, interesting…and how would we make them? Have you made them before.’ 

‘Well I don’t but on principle…with your help… we could….’ Adva voice died in her throat as she cast her eyes down. 

A sturdy finger lifted her chin, forcing her to look into the bronzed face of the Witcher. 

‘It is a good idea. We will make the charges tonight. I will then place them in the caves. While you and Jaskier stay in the tavern, understand?'

Adva nodded happily and took up a swig of her drink, beaming at the two men for the first time since Brightwater. Geralt removed his hands and look above her head to the treasurer lurking across the tavern eyes trained on the couple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is okay. The news keeps getting worse and worse so I hope your all being safe. Life is hectic at the moment working from home is complicated. I have applied for a new job got an interview at a lovely place but not sure if its the right thing to do at the moment.
> 
> So what do you think? 
> 
> I am thinking about having a bonding chapter next. Some juicy flirting and magic maybe a little of self discovery. 
> 
> Let me know what you are thinking?


	9. Chapter 9

Adva bounce from foot to foot as she led Geralt stall to stall. Surprisingly, Geralt had given her the list and let her haggle with all the market sellers and allowed her to load him up with supplies without so much as a groan. Despite her self-consciousness on her new outfit the former kitchen maiden felt liberated wandering the town in fully fitted clothes, and the fact her skirts didn’t get caught on the sharp piece of wood anymore or trip her up. Trousers were a strange thing to wear but felt liberating. Casting a look up at Geralt Adva could help but laugh as the colossus of a man willing carrying parcels and bundles. 

‘What are you laughing at?’ Geralt question from behind the mountain of purchases. 

‘I never thought I’d see a big scary Witcher carrying my packages.’ Adva laughed, hurrying ahead, giggling as Geralt head peaked out with a mock scowl. 

Adva smiled as she handed the man the coin for the silver and added it to the bundle, ignored the stares and whispers that she heard as they made their way back through the village and down toward the riverbank.

‘Can you believe that he chose her….’

‘Filthy mutant.’ 

‘Why isn’t she carring that. Man’s got to have her trained, gotta know ‘er place.’

‘Whore… but he is going to take ‘er down the creek, fuck her against a tree.’ 

‘They shouldn’t let him within 5 miles of the town.’ 

‘Look at what she is wearing?’ 

‘God that girls got a sexy arse…so has the Witcher.’

They made there way through town and toward the little dock outside of the town. It was a shack of decaying wood and wrecked wooded pier that Fisherman and merchants launched themselves from. The Witcher dumped the supplies on the floor by a large oak stump, resting on his knees he began to pull the various ingredient onto the stump and light a small fire from the twigs nearby. Settling down the other side of the budding fire Adva mirrored his pose and began helping him sort the ingredients.

‘Does it bother you?’ The question cut through the pleasant silence before she could even register it was her voice.

‘Does what?’ Great replied not to look up as he blew on the fire. Small streams of white smoke curled up before disappearing into nothing.

‘Them calling you things behind your back. Didn’t you hear them?’ Adva furrowed her brow as the man continued huffing into the twigs.

‘I am a Witcher…we hear everything. Don’t you mind.’

‘Course I do. But then again, what do I care what ignorant people think of me.’ Adva answered. 

‘Hmmmm.’ 

‘I don’t think you’re a filthy mutant.’

‘How would you know. I did buy you. Snatch you away from all you ever known.’ Geralt growled, resting his gloved hands on his thighs, golden eyes staring intensely at her.

‘You did. I was and am angry at you. But I don’t think you’re a bad person; you saved me when you could have let Tradi kill me and then kill him.’

‘Hmmm’

It was amazing how much a Geralt could convey with a simple hmm. Range from content to annoyed, angry to happy. Adva was confused. The mood of the Witcher wherever changing, on the road, he would bring her a freshly roasted rabbit or an extra blanket but with his next breath growl at her. She was almost beginning to think he cares for her; this stupid charade was enough to get her thinking that he cared for her safety, there was no other reason he would want her to pose as his wife. Maybe in the next town, she could pretend to be Jaskier wife and could avoid Geralt altogether.   
Shaking her head, Adva cast her eyes down fiddling with the strip of silver into powered fillings. Geralt looked over at her golden eyes burning into her as he watched she shave down the silvers and crushing them into a fine powder between two stones. Adva was a diligent worker, a bead of sweat started to form on her forehead, pants of hot breath puffed through her lips as she pounded heavily against the rock, with every hit her breast jiggled attractively in her blouse framed by the corset. A straw curled escaped her mane of curls; he yearned to reach out and tuck it behind her ear.   
‘Ah fuck….I didn’t… fuck.’ Geralt scowled himself. 

‘Could you tell me how to make the charges’ Adva smiled up weakly as she spooned the powder onto the leaves.

Wordlessly, Geralt measured the various ingredient into the leaf bundles and found Adva following his every move, replicating it with the other bundles. The work was methodical and measured, precise. They worked in focused silence, Geralt took all the bundles and forced them into wooded containers and cut the fuse. Adva followed his lead and began cutting the fuse from like pieces of wick  
‘Here’ Geralt said softly covering his hand over hers to adjust the length of wick she was cutting to an inch longer. Adva eyes trailed up the man’s hand, up his arm to rest of the man’s face who was staring intensely at her. A wave of energy pulsed between them. It was the same feeling when they first met, the feeling that made her drunk and lightheaded. Now however it was more intense whenever he touched her a surge of electric forced its way through her, but even with the glove covering his hand, she could feel the force lash against her skin, building and building, reaching for something at the centre of her body. The stream next to the couple, stilled, no rolling waves of small animals causing ripples against the water. Just perfect stillness. Droplets of water rose from the surface of the water hanging in the sky like a diamond. Fish swirled in the large orbs of water, in the small droplets, some had flowers, water Lillies and brooklime stood ornamental in the drops of water. 

Adva and Geralt hand-turned in sync to watcher the spectacle, it was beautiful. In the sky above the cloud received back, and the overwhelming heat shone down at them. The wind died in the air, leaving them with the perfect summer day weather. The energy buzzed excitingly between them, and a hum rung out in the girl's ear with deafening ferocity. Panicked, Adva snatched her had away violently panting hard. Geralt watched amazed as the droplets sunk back to the water soundlessly and the waves began to appear once again, the cloud rolling back into sight and the gentle wind picked up again.

‘What is hell is wrong with me!’ Adva screech looking down at her burning hand. ‘My power has never been this strong, with what happened this morning and now this…’ Adva begin to babble unintelligibly. ‘Maybe Tradi had the right idea…’ Adva paced the small patch next to the bank 

Geralt stood and stilled the pacing girl with a hand resting on her shoulder. The hum was back but this time soft and gentle, soothing her as he looked up at the Witcher. An unfamiliar warm smile warmed his face as he looked at her tenderly, his lips parted several times but no words formed. There were concern and frustration in his eyes, but his actions were comforting to her, he didn’t reach for his sword or threaten her, just smiled at her. Stepping closer, his clothed hand slide to her hair, while he craned his face down. Adva watched frozen as he his face inched closer, eyelids slowly closing and thick lashed fluttered his skin again. Her eyes started to shut slowly, almost as if they were unable to tear themselves away from the sight in front of her when Geralt eyes flashed open, no longer the golden orbs but a deeper amber replaced them, like fiery lava but they didn’t rest on her; instead, they opened up to a cave mouth a little further down the bank. 

‘Stay here, if I am not out in 5 minutes, run back to the town.’ Geralt gripped the curvy women arms and twisted her round to stand back against the stub as he pulled the charges from the floor and rushed toward the cave.

‘Geralt’ Adva called after him, but he had vanished from sight.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

3 minutes. The white-haired man had been gone for 3 minutes. The longest three minute of her life. Chewing on her thumbnail, Adva paced. She had busied herself with clearing away their supplies which had consumed all of the minutes. The seconds past slowly as she watched the mouth of the cave.

‘Lady Adva’ a voice called pulling her away from the vigil of the cave. 

‘Oh, Sir…If you are looking for Geralt, he has just gone into the caves.’ 

‘No…No I was looking for you actually.’

‘Me?’ Adva frown deeply as the man approach further.

‘Yes, I feel the need to discuss something with you. I fear for your safety.’ 

‘Safety?’ 

‘You aren’t married to that Witcher are you? If he has stolen you away from your family, I can help you, little dove.’

Here was a chance to make her way back to Brightwater. All she had to do is open her mouth and plead for help from this man. She opened her mouth, but the running water caught her eyes. All her life, she had been forced to bend to other people will, to serve them like a usable tool to be thrown away or sold to the highest bidder. For the first time in her life, she felt powerful and free, the magic within her surged and flowed freely and even in the circumstance of how she ended up with Geralt she was… happy almost.

‘Of...Of course, he is…’ Adva started, but a mighty explosion blew out from the cave. The pale brown puff of dirt and dust rose from the cave and steadily filled the air. 

‘Geralt! GERALT!!!’ Adva screeched as she rushed toward the opening to be firmly pulled away by Miska’s strong arms. 

‘Adva stop…Stop. His gone…god knows if any of the creatures survived. Adva…Adva listen’ Miska shook Adva from her hysteric, his nails digging deep into her arms.   
‘Get off your hurting me.’ 

‘It will be okay…come on…come with me.’ Adva tried to twist her way out his grasp. 

A garbled sentence chocked out of his mouth as he let her arm slip out of his grasp. A hideous green creature emerged from the water, slimy and grim. Seaweed and sludgy slid of the body, or what you would call a body, a thick trunk of toxic green scales and webbed hands and feet. Gnashing teeth snapped against the air filling it with nightmarish shrieks. The beast sniffed the air homing of the thin bead of crimson leaking from the ten half-moon dents in her arms. A blood-curling scream filled the air as the lurched forward. Another and another emerged from water till half a dozen surround the couple.  
Miska flinched back, foot catching in an upturned root, smashing himself unconscious on the stump of the tree. Fearful eyes watched as the creature inched forward, snarled and biting at the air as they moved. Flexing her fingers, Adva tried to calm her racing heart, with a deep breath, she contorted her hands and summoned a swirl of water towards the beasts. The monsters stopped, startled before a bellowed roar shook the ground, the creatures shook off the water and lunged once again toward her. 

‘Miska…help please.’ Adva whimpered, fearing to take her eyes away from the creatures. The man groaned lightly before sinking into a deep unconsciousness. 

Adva could feel the rancid breath against her skin. The smell was enough to make her retch, fishy like a 5-day old catch and the smell of decaying vegetation. A whimper escaped her mouth as all seemed lost. The hoard of creatures posed readied to attack, glistening claws to glinted murderously in the sun. The drowner took a deep sniff and stopped, tilting its head. The other copied and halted their movements and every so slightly edges back. A whine chorused throughout, as they scrambled back. Every now and again, one swiped forward with a barked forward. Adva dragged up another shot of water and latched it toward the cowardering downers, sending them back toward the opening of the cave. 

The swish of a blade cut through the air. Unholy screams echoed across the walls as the sound of meat slamming against the stone with a wet smack. Out from the smoke, a bloodied and angry Witcher appeared from the dust, growling. The beast gave a war cry as they rushed at him, claws brandished. Adva was amazed as Geralt manoeuvred between the drowners, swishing his sword elegantly as he moved. His combat was an art, a dance of brutality and speed. When the dust had settled the carved-up bodies of the drowners lay on the floor, blood soaking into the ground. 

‘You hurt?’ Geralt gruffly barked.

‘Let me phrase that again; your hurt’ Geralt snarled as he tore his gloves off with his teeth and ran his fingers over wounds. 

The wound where merely scratches, nothing more than a trickle of blood split. Geralt inhaled deeply and exhaled sharply. The overpowering scent of Adva invaded his senses; it was a calming smell, but then the pungent smell of the treasurer, forces itself upon the Witcher’s nose. His scent was not unpleasant, a mix of old paper and musk, but it crawled its way over the women scent as if trying and failing to overpower hers. 

Geralt released the women are and with dark eyes cast his eye over the landscape, his trained witches scene taking everything in and replaying the events in his head.  
‘Coward of a man he touched you..’ Geralt steadily advanced on the unconscious man, flexing the sword provocatively. 

‘Geralt stop…please.’ Adva stepped between the Witcher and the unconscious Miska.

It was a pathetic attempt, Geralt, if he wanted could push her across and skewer the treasure without any effort at all. Adva had her hands firm pushed up against his chest feeling the straining muscles, and the deep rumbled rolling within his chest. It was almost a primitive sound, a sound that scared her and thrilled her at the same time. A foreign feeling pooled at the bottom of her stomach and warmed her in places she didn’t even know she had. 

‘Please…it doesn’t matter. Can we just leave.’ Adva looked up at Geralt who in turn gazed down at her. 

The Witcher was silent for a few moments as he repeatedly inhaled before resting his forehead against hers. Adva had to stop herself from gasping at the intimate position. Staring up, she watched as the Witches eye fluttered closed, and he inhaled deeply.

‘I can smell you.’ He moaned, rubbing his forehead against her more, causing a shiver of pleasure to run down her body.

‘Arghhh….’ A pained groan sounded from the ground cause Adva to jump away. 

Geralt snarled at the man, sheathing his sword and hoisting him up to his lapels, shaking him roughly. With blood splattered against the face, the Witcher looked like death himself. Miska squirmed under the hold, his feet dangling a right two foot off the floor.

‘If you EVER touch her again. The only thing they are going to find off you if that pitiful cowardly cock nailed to the town square. Got it? GOT IT!’ Geralt threatened lowly.   
‘I wasn’t… doing anything…’ Miska struggled in vain.

‘That why she has hand marks on her arm… You are going to pay my bounty, and we are going to leave at daybreak tomorrow, and if you so much as look in her direction again I am going to rip your stomach out through your nose… Now march. You are paying me in full.’ Geralt snapped, throwing the man to his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have been on a roll, I am now up to chapter 11, who my beautiful beta is slowly proofreading. I will drip feed them down. I am very excited by chapter 12/13 😉 Things will start to pick up the pace when we get there
> 
> Once again please stay safe, I do hope you are all able to get the essentials and not put at too much risks! 
> 
> Please please please leave a comment or a review! They mean the world to me.


	10. Chapter 10

True to his word at first light the trio headed off into the unknown. Geralt's purse was overfilling with the coin. Jaskier gave an overdramatic declaration of love and devotion, that while touching neither seems to be taking very seriously. Griselda was already flirting with the next man before they had even left. Jaskier, on the other hand, seemed to take it harder, looking longingly into the distance while strumming melancholy tunes on his lute when they settled down to bed for the night. Adva had firmly believed that Jaskier was a roaming Lothario, but he generally seems to hold a particular sort of love for Griselda. 

For the most part, Adva would miss Griselda; her cheeky attitude reminded her a lot of the girls in the Tavern at Brightwater. Their parting was short and sweet, Griselda lamented that she would not be able to give them the wedding present. A cottage on the borders of the village where the bride was carried over the threshold by the groom all the while being followed by the villagers clanking pots and pans to scare away evil spirits before spending three days and nights. Thankfully, their early departure meant that the plans where waylayed. Instead, the auburn-haired women thrust a package containing the lace nightdress from the clothing merchant she had seen the day earlier, with a blush Adva quickly shoved it into her bundled all the while trying to avoid the watchful eye of Geralt. The Witcher’s eyes never seemed to wander far away, much more vigilant of her since the incident with the drowners. 

The three has travelled in silence for the best part of three days, for Geralt that was his normal stoic state but the other two had much on their minds to contemplate and didn’t seem to mind where Geralt was leading them. Geralt has been pensive. His face pursed in a thoughtful expression; on the brief moments, she could force herself to look at him; it was like watching an inner conflict battling inside of him. The ashen haired man had not told them where he was leading them, not that the other two had asked but with every town, they passed or saw the Witcher strolled past not even glancing around the noticed board in hopes of a job. Adva thought that was strange, the Witcher who seemed to little else but hunter not searching for work made her feel uncertain, not something that she liked the feeling.  
As night gently descended, they made camp in a little clearing just off the road. Geralt had set the fire before going off in search of food, Jaskier trailing behind to collect more wood to last the though the chilly night. Adva sat kneeling by the flicker flames, staring at the cup of water, Jaskier has serviced her earlier. 

Inhaling deeply, Adva watched as slowly water levitated from the cup and swirled in the air. Over the last three day, Adva tentatively tested her powers, a little here and there but quickly she found that they were stronger than before, much more robust. Before, she would move small objects and so a few simple spells, nothing beyond the skills of a simple village witch. Since meeting Geralt, her powers had increased sevenfold. Flexing her had she forced the water to shift from shape to shape. 

‘That is amazing! Can you do a fish?’ Jaskier gasped. 

Adva in her shock at the shrill voice lost concentration and the water cascading to the floor, only to be caught by her at the last second. Adva cursed herself, and her lack of awareness, the heavy sent of Geralt alone was enough to warn her of the approaching men, it was not like Jaskier was silence. The irresistible scent of the Witcher hung over her, and the energy sizzled against her skin. Ever since their encounter the days previous the energy between then was constant not just when they touched and the smell, my god the smell, she was always aware of the addictive manly perfume. 

Geralt threw the fishes he had caught onto the stone but the fire, their bodies still twitching. Kneeling in front of the fire he added more wood and gutted the three fish in a skilful flick of his wrist. Removing his gloves, he pushed the herbs he had to collect into the gasping bellies before tossing them onto the hot stone before looking up. Golden eyes watched silently as Jaskier watched in awe as Adva shifted the water into a frozen orb, a perfect globe of solid ice. The sphere sizzled and bubbled as it melted into a mass boiling water. It the short period he had seen go from someone who in panic used magically to someone forging a budding power, all on her own. The Witcher had been carefully pondering the events that unfolded with the drowners. There way she manipulated the water and the weather without even trying was sort of outstanding. Even, Yennefer and Triss, the most potent Mages he knew would struggle and strain themselves to yield that sort of power over an element. That in itself wasn’t the concerning this; Mages excelled in different areas. That leading cause of the pain that throbbed in her head and kept him awake at night was the drowners. At the first sniff of blood, the creatures that he hadn’t already displaced scurried to the surface. Geralt witness the drowners get within killing distance only to cower away. Never, it the many years he had been a monster hunter had he seen drowners flee. Not even when he came at them with a silver sword, they didn’t think so much as flinch. There was something about Adva that scared them; he just didn’t know what. 

‘Impressive…’ Geralt purred from the fireside. ‘Let's see what you got.’ The Witcher gestured to the other side of the fire.

Blinking across at the man, she carefully replied. ‘You're going to teach me something?’

‘Hmmm’

‘Have you taught others before?’ Adva asked curiously as she settled down, the other side of the fire.

‘Course he has, he taught Ciri everything she knows.’ Jaskier answered as he eagerly sat on a fallen tree, watching them with anticipation.

‘Ciri?’

‘Geralt’s adopted, daughter. She is a Witcher now, well an apprentice. Best out there…apart from Geralt and Yennefer of course.’ Jaskier quickly added.

Many, many questions bloomed forth in her head. Since when do Witcher’s adopted daughter? Could a woman be a Witcher? Where was Ciri? Should his apprentice be travelling with him? Was Ciri with Yennefer? Who was Yennefer? A sister? A mage? A Witcher? Girlfriend? Wife? 

The last two questions left a bad taste in her mouth, but she wasn’t about to ask the Witcher any of the burning questions if the look that Geralt threw Jaskier was anything to go by and Adva very much wanted to learn something. 

Geralt started with breathing exercising and the explanation that magic was connected to emotions and the way to harness powers. ‘Harness the fire…In though the nose out through the mouth.’   
They spent what seemed like hours around the fire, Jaskier has lot awe an hour ago and was dozing softly into his palm. For all the that it was worth Geralt remained patient and persistent which was more than Adva. Despite Geralt motivation, Adva was steadily losing her focus and her confidence.

‘Geralt maybe this isn’t working.’ Adva pleaded.

‘Shhhhhh just concentrate on my voice. Feel it inside you. Concentrate on the fire.’ Geralt soothed his eyes remained closes.

Adva tried, really tried to focus on the fire but nothing called to her. The water would sing to her; she could always sense when water was near even if it was miles under her feet, she could hear it. The sound of Geralt’s voice in her head was there, soft and barely audible but there just trying to breakthrough. The fire didn’t seem to want to call to her; however, there was something, something there in the shadows of her mind, calling her. Out of pure frustration, she gripped it. 

Out of nowhere, a brutal bolt of lightning shot out of a cloudless sky and struct the fire. Embers burst forth and scared around the ground, as Geralt and Jaskier were sent flying backwards with a savage force. Adva, for the most part, remained unmoved, sitting on a scrap of earth that cradled her in the middle of a crater. Eyes wide as the power oozed around her and linked them. Geralt felt her inside his head, just faintly, but there was a presence, frantic and scared, the feeling warmed him.

‘What the fuck was that? That was not normal.’ Jaskier screeched diving into a nearby bush 

‘Impressive and powerful…never seen that before.’ Geralt’s voice crackled in her head, so faint she thought she imagined it.

‘I could have killed you... and Jaskier.’ Adva seethed. ‘I thought you were going to teach me something.’ 

Geralt stood and dusted himself off. Despite being thrown several meters in the air, he was relatively okay; a few scratched from the brambles and the bracken he had skimmed across. His hair wild and eyes burn orbs of disbelief. The Witcher cast his eyes over at her figure, eyes skilfully observing over her. A rash of thoughts surged through his mind. Adva’s hands shook as she helped Jaskier up, tears swelled up in her eyes that never fell. For the most part, Jaskier, for didn’t seem to be injured or in trouble, simply stunned, swaying for side to side in a daze. 

‘Pack up we are leaving...we are going to see an old friend.’ Geralt announced dousing the fire with water.

Geralt demolished the camp in a matter of minutes, a lifetime of practice having to move on quickly. Bags where packed and bundles shoved on top of Roach, while his two-companion stood bewildered and baffled. Lastly, he through their sleeping mat through the loops on his saddlebags before turning to face them. The crater still smouldered in front of him, it was deep, least a meter, a large enough for a full-grown man to bath in. The bolt was powerful enough carve its way through solid stone leaving nothing but a few small pieces of rubble. Jaskier was now coming to his senses and soothingly running a soothing hand over the woman shoulder all the while casting a look to Geralt.

‘Adva.’ Geralt called. ‘Adva…Look...’ Geralt slowly approached her, hands held open in surrender, but still as the Witcher moved the smaller woman flinched violently. 

‘Shhh shhh, I’m not going to hurt you…I would never hurt you.’ Geralt pulled her closer to him by her shoulders and all but dragged her to his waiting horse. Hoisted her up onto his horse, he hurried up after her. ‘Everything is going to be alright. Shhhh Just got to see a friend first…’ Geralt whispered, holding her tight against him, letting her quietly sob herself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun Dun Dunnnn! I am so excited! Things are going to start to speed up, and finally, I can see smut over the horizon! And hopefully some cute Geralt moments.
> 
> My Poor Beta is very ill at the minute so I have tried to proofread my own stuff- so hopefully you can understand it.
> 
> How is everyone? More importantly, I hope everyone is safe and comfortable! The world seems to get crazier every day, went out to the shops yesterday and a woman was screaming at me because I parked three car parking space away from her. Apparently, that was not acceptable. She then proceeded to shout to everyone how dangerous I was while we lined up then follow me around the shop ramming into my trolley. I am starting to go crazy as I don’t think I have seen or spoken to anyone properly in a month. So I am focusing all my crazy into my stories.  
> Please review/leave a comment! They mean so much to me! 
> 
> Ps- I am also thinking of holding a writers group chat to discuss stories/writing/fandoms doesn’t have to be Witcher related could be anything! If I don’t start talking to real people soon I will end up talking to my toaster hahaha.


	11. Chapter 11

Triss Merigold stared as Geralt laid the sleeping woman onto the four-poster bed, in the rooms that Triss had sought sanctuary for the past couple of months. The Marquis of Barrington had been in urgent demand of a Mage, and his hospitality had been exquisite. The Marquis had given her own private house with workshop attached, stocked with every ingredient she could ever want to help the Marquis expand his power reach. It had not been since being Forrester's Mage that she had been surrounded in such luxury. The mansion itself was situated in an affluent town, no filthy streets or gruff-looking whoreson out to gut you for whatever was in your pockets. It was pleasant and peaceful after all the years being frames for killing her former king. The last person she has thought to see was Geralt of Rivia, especially cradling her like such a glass doll.  
‘I almost feel like you are stalking me; you almost seem to know where I am.’ Triss teased as Geralt pulled a blanket over the figure. Triss watched as the brunette with the plush lips stirred slightly as they watched as the giant worry tucked her in with such delicacy you would think she would shatter into a million pieces.

‘Hmmm’ Geralt hummed as tenderly he plumped Adva pillows before turning and leaving, but not before cast one last look as he closed the door.

The mage busied herself by making tea, and with a snap of her fingers, a broad spread of food appeared on the table, along with a serving woman who appeared with a jug of spiced wine which she offered to Jaskier with a smile. The bard's eyes widened as she leaned over a thrust her over ample bosom into his face. Triss rolled her eyes as Jaskier giggled flirtatiously at the serving girl who rolled her eyes at his awkward pass, how a talented bard though comparing her chest to juicy melons was a good idea was beyond Triss. Before she passed the Witcher the tea which he instantly discarded. Taking the hint, Triss gestured to the small workroom off the main chambers. 

The room was a working laboratory; cauldrons bubbled, herb and flower were being dried and turned into a powder. Neon liquids sat glowing decorative bottles against the wall, next to it a row of antique books filled the next two walls, books in languages he had never seen; it was an extensive collection, second only to Aretuza, Triss did like to be well equipped. It had felt like a long time since he had seen Triss, around the last time he was a proper item with Yennefer. The moment Yennefer came into his mind, he felt sour, he had last seen her a month before he stumbled upon Adva. As always, the demanding raven-haired mage had manipulated and strung him along and disappeared, taking Ciri with her. A sense of bitterness washed over him for the first time in weeks; he had almost forgotten about their argument, and he had just walked in Yennefer’s best friend’s home, carry a woman who could be his mate. 

‘I would seem you have landed on your feet.’ Geralt grunted as he rested against a cabinet.

The curly-haired woman sat at the workbench and sipped her tea as she watched him, he seemed different, his eyes were concerned, but his face seemed less severe. His body was unmoving and still but a nervous energy vibrant in the room, it was unsettling to see the cold Witcher so unsettled. With another small sip of tea, she replied ‘I have. The Marquis is very kind. But enough of this small talk, it never suited you. So, are going to have to tell me why you are here? And who she is?’

Geralt tossed the book toward the caramel skin mage. Triss quickly caught the book despite its heaviness. It was old and in near mint condition, but just from looking at the spine, there had been extensive stress over the last couple of weeks. In one section particularly, read over and over again to the point the book flopped open at the start of a chapter written in the old language; the stunning calligraphy read – THE WITCHER’S MATE. Creasing her brow slightly, she read the first page with profound confusion.  
‘Witcher’s have mates? I have never heard of anything like this. I have heard of soul bonds between humans and mages sometimes even elves but this…never.’ 

‘When I was in training there was a story that Alzur, the mage who created the School of Witcher’s, he designed the Witcher’s with the ability to have a soulmate, to be something other than a Witcher. For all eternity to be loved and adored by one person, a love that would never wavier. But it’s a myth, a fairy-tale. I have never heard of it happen, or Vesemir or his mentor or the mentor before him. ‘Geralt spoke softly with hard eyes.  
‘Yet it is written about in a book.’ Triss gently pointed out. ‘A guide to Witcher’s no less. And from the detail here I would say it more than a myth, you have information about the symptoms, effects, the ritual of the soulbond and a lot of detail about the sex, in a lot a detail. I do not even think I have heard of most of these positions and I have been around the block more than a few time Geralt. Seem like you cannot deny it provenance. But then again Great Geralt of Rivia would not have come to see little old me unless something was going on. Tell me Geralt we are friends, after all.’

The white-haired Witcher growled, rubbing his hands over his face, he did this for a few minutes before straightening himself and pacing the small length of the room in two strides. 

‘I felt it before I had even seen her; the smell was incredible, and since then, it has only been getting stronger and stronger. It’s a symptom, along with the constant need to be near her. I even fucking brought her from the tavern she worked it, I should have just left her there but I couldn’t, the thought they would pressure her into being a whore or worse sold off to another sadist like Tradi was too much. I thought it was just some rebound from Yen but, yesterday I felt her inside my head after she conjured a lightning bolt out of nowhere. She was in my head, reading my thought. I felt it. Its unbearable… I can’t… ’ Geralt growled, shoving a cash of glass bottles off the bench, sending shards across the polished floor.

‘Well…skipping over the fact you brought someone Geralt. It seems like there is no denying the fact she is your soul mate. So, what the problem, you got the manual on how to go so claim her? What the problem?’ 

‘There’s this... Tradi of Brownstone tried to murder her for this in Brightwater, told me it was a family book that she had been left with when she was abandoned at Brightwaters dock. In all the confusion I picked it up, is it worth setting a Griffin on the town for.’ Geralt sighed and handed the Burgundy journal. 

Triss starred at him in disbelief ‘Does she knows you have this?’ Flipping the book in her hands in belief. 

‘No, and it would be good if it stayed that way till we know what we are dealing with.’ Geralt once again crossed his arms and hunched over the workbench. 

Triss gave him an unconvinced look before running a hard hand over the book. It was old but sturdy. Thick deep red leather, with an engraved design, etched across its surface. There seemed to be some kind of dialect around the sides; the rest was an ornate pattern of the cycle of the moon and some soft-shell design. The power vibrated of the book was potent and shrouded in an ancient protection spell. 

‘This is a powerful book.’ Triss marvelled as she opened the book and scanned the unreadable script.

‘Black magic?’ 

‘No… no. It an Arcana.’ The curly-haired mage gushed as she turned page after page.  
‘Isn’t that for tarot cards?’ Geralt questioned.

Triss stood and pulled a book from the shelf and past it to Geralt, The Secrets of the Arcana. Before speaking again, ‘Arcana means secrets of nature. For centuries Alchemists sought to discover secrets and powerful remedies. It legend that at the start of the time when magic was first explored, the elder races documented everything in family journals. To my knowledge, only one other survived… and that is locked in the vaults at Aretuza. As High Mages, we have only ever glimpsed it…this, however, is nothing like the one I've seen. I have never seen any language like this. Ever.’ 

‘Can you decode it?’ Geralt demanded. 

‘Decode it? Maybe with time…why, though?’

‘If we can work out what it is, it can tell us something about her. About this connection, it has to have something to do with the book.’ Geralt straightened, his leather armour creaked as he did. 

‘Hmmm. I can try... But Geralt have you ever considered that she is your mate?’ Triss placed the book down and picked up her spiced tea, a mix of cinnamon and nutmeg mixed with the vanilla of the tea.

‘Hmmmmm.’ Geralt growled. 

Despite the growling ferocity of his voice, there was, in his eyes, hope. Triss had to know Geralt years and deep down, there was echoing loneliness that seeped through his ones and to the core of his soul. A yearning to connect with someone. The Witcher had tried hard with Yennefer, but the two were just too volatile, like chalk and cheese. There was an intense attraction between them, intensified by the Jinn spell. Geralt at heart was a lovesick puppy following Yennefer around. In spite of their friendship, Yennefer’s treatment of Geralt was a sore point for Triss. They had had something long ago, but now it was a deep love like brother and sister. Protective and warm. And if it were true, Triss would support this bond with everything she had.

‘Because there is a way to check if you are soulmates.’ 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
Geralt took little convincing and watched Triss prepare the solution in a wooden bowl. Ahwinder eggs, rose thorns, peppermint, powdered moonstones, pearl dush and rose petals. The smell was surgery and warm as they carried it through the house to the room the Adva slept sweetly. Triss could not help but admire the women. Her body was unlike Yennefer’s, it was thick and curvy, more suitable for a Witcher’s mate Triss thought as she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Thick, long eyelashes fanned out across her cheeks, paired with soft cheekbones and plump pink lips. Resting the bowl on the side, she removed the girl’s hand from underneath the blankets and revealed a knife, glinting menacingly in the sunlight.  
‘What are you doing to her?’ Geralt growled, gripping Triss’s wrist tightly.  
‘It a small cut Geralt, protective much? Are you sure you just don’t want to accept she is your mate?’ Triss snapped, pulling her hand back. 

Geralt released her hands and took a step back to watch the mage drag the knife across her palm. Deep red droplet fell into the bowl and hung motionless in the water. Triss did the same with Geralt bronzed hand and watched as the blood did the same. Geralt watched as the blood mingled into the water, the water was a sea of blues and pinks, the vibrant red vivid against the water. Geralt felt a sense of relief when the water did not react but also a sense of regret. The cat-like orbs looked downcast and heaved himself from the bedpost and of out the room when a faint glow emanated throughout the room. The glow grew and grew till the pair had to turn their eyes away from the burning light. The bowl rattled and pulsated on the table till the light burnt out and an overpowering sweet smell.

‘Does that answer your question….Geralt this is a powerful bond…if you don’t complete the link…I don’t know what is going to happen.’ Triss coughed picking up the bowl, now empty and thrusting it under his nose.

‘Fuck’ 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The room span as Adva’s eyes blinked open. The room was lavish and extravagant, richly decorated in filigree paper and a deep mahogany bed with silk sheets. They were soft against her skin, and the bed, the bed was a cushion of air that held her tenderly. Adva’s body ached, it felt like she had slept for a century, but still, her body yearned for more sleep. Pushing herself up a stinging sensation bite through her hand. Flinching away, Adva brought her hand, find her hand carefully wrapped in a white linen bandage. With every flex, she could feel the flesh of a hand separated cause her to recoil in pain.  
‘What happened to my hand?’ Adva groaned. ‘Oh, dear lord! Are they okay?’ Sitting bolt upright in the bed and on weak legs attempted to stand, only to be pushed back into the bed by small hands. 

‘They are downstairs, perfectly fine.’ A beautiful woman smiled down at her with perfect white teeth and warm chocolate brown eyes. ‘I am Triss Merigold, a mage, Geralt’s friend. Your safe.’

‘Oh…hello.’ Adva smiled weakly resting herself against the pillows, almost sighing in ecstasy as she rested into cloud-soft pillows.

‘I know you have a lot of question, but you need to rest for now. You were suffering from magical build-up; Its when magical creativity does not have an outlet. You have probably been suffering from a long time but your…powers kept you from exploded, so when Geralt was teaching you his little party trick all that pent up magic that was within saw an opportunity it went for it. None of that was your fault; I am surprised that Cersi didn’t want to train you. But her lose it my gain; I could teach you, properly. But only if you want me to…what do you say?’ 

‘Yes’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back baby!   
> How are you all! I hope you are well and staying safe.   
> Life is still manic but hopefully things will get better.   
> So what do you think? Please leave a review!


	12. Chapter 12

The sun had just pierced the night sky, given the world a rosy glow. The light was soft, and the air was warm. Not even the roosters were awake, the only noise that could be heard was the gentle creak of the stiff rope as Adva span slowly on the swing. She couldn’t remember the last time she had swung on the swing; her childhood didn’t consist of playing and jumping with pals, more cleaning and learning to cook. But before Tradi had taken from the orphanage, there had been a rope swing where she, Lesa and Peter would play for hours before being dragged in by Elsda, the kindly older woman who nursed them. Briefly, Adva’s mind drifted to her old care keeper. The towns ombudsman paid to keep the orphans of the town; it was a wealthy town, so they were few and far between, so their care had been good. Elsda had been a widow of a fisherman with one young daughter of her own to support. They were given clothes and feed and taught skills, it was a happy childhood, till the age of nine, Elsda's daughter had married a well to do spice merchant and the older woman set off to be close to her only daughter. But not before settling her wards in professions. Peter became a blacksmith and Lesa a seamstress, while she became an assistant to Tradi and subject to his experiments. Anger hitched in the back of her mind if Elsda had taken a little bit more care maybe she wouldn’t be subjected to Tradi’s awful behaviour. The anger disappeared as soon as it appeared. Adva could never hold onto anger despite how much she tried; she was a pushover. Even when Geralt brought her and whisked her away, her anger had disappeared after a week. Logic had won, and all the reason he gave subdued her anger and gave more need to fuel the passion for learning and to hone her craft. 

The studies where not hard by required a lot of focus, but at the end of the day, Adva could barely force herself to sleep, hence her dawn wondering. As the swing twirled around against, a familiar hulk-like figured came into view as she spun. Geralt appeared out of nowhere, instead of his intimidating armour, he was dressed in a thin linen undershirt, and button breeched. 

Geralt had a mostly sleepless night; since Triss had conjured that awful potion, there was no doubt in his mind that Adva was his mate, it drove the monster within him to want to be near her and claim her. Efforts to ignore her or avoid her exhausted him more, so Geralt subject himself to remain in her presence, near enough to calm his beast but not enough to engage the urge to take her. That morning the sound of her leaving her room drove him from trying to get several more hours sleep, Geralt followed her at a distance, watching as she swung and spun, she wore the scarlet dress he had brought her with a thin white blouse, it hitched itself ever so slightly with each movement, carefree and unrestrained, revealing a sliver of the thigh, a milky paleness that Geralt yearned to fondle. Finding himself moving, he came to a holt behind the woman.

A delicate blush coloured her pale skin which gave Geralt great pleasure, but she was thankful that the swing righted itself right, so her back was facing him, hoping that she had seen too much. Clearing her voice, she spoke, ‘Couldn’t sleep?’ 

‘Hmmm’ 

‘Me neither, suppose I’m still used to waking up before dawn to get the tavern ready.’

Geralt didn’t respond; instead, his hands softly began to push the swing. Adva giggled as the swing gained momentum, sending her higher and higher into the air. With every touch, a fizz of electric buddle against her skin. The dress she wore was thick and densely woven, and even through that, she could still feel the heat of his skin. 

‘How are you feeling now… with everything?’ the smooth voice questions as he pushed her. 

‘Good… I feel better… Triss is nice. I am learning about botany at the minute. It's nice to learn things finally...’ The conversation dead in the air. There was an awkward tension between them; there had been since the events with the drowners, her forehead still tingled where he rested his head against hers. It was so intimate, so loving and tender it makes her heart flutter. In spite of herself, it did make her want something, something she didn’t know, a deep yearning inside her, but the overwhelming logic side of her won. There would be nothing between them; she was too plump and pale, not slender and chiselled like Triss. She bet even Yennefer look like she had been carved by the gods. Witchers would attract the most desired women, why on earth would Geralt cast his eyes in her direct and after spending ten long years in service to a brothel a kitchen maid, she was not about to let herself be used the way they were. 

‘For what it is worth, I am sorry, for everything.’ Geralt hand stilled, seemingly waiting for an onslaught on emotions. 

Instead, Geralt watched as Adva stood on the swing. It was the first time she had been able to look at him face to face. He had a handsome, exquisite face and deep-set eyes. A nervous giggle cascaded from her lips as the swing rock recklessly, Geralt hands grabbed onto her hips to steady her. The giggle died on her lip as she stared at him, despite his expressionless feature, there was something swirling wildly in his eyes as he looked down at his hand on her broad hips. For a minute, she thought he would rip his hand from her, but instead, they tighten comfortingly into her flesh.   
‘You saved me. Triss told me about what would happen with magic build-up, I would have lost my mind or started killing people, and if that didn’t happen. Vivian would have eventually forced me into whoring, as much as I hate to admit it. She always got her way, and if I didn’t, she would have sold the contract before I got to my 25th birthday to people far worse then Tradi. You took me away and brought me here, you didn’t have to, but you did so… Thank you.’ Adva smiled across at him and leaned over, pecking him on his smooth golden cheek.

The look on Geralt face was a mix of fear and shock; it was rather adorable in away. The Witcher's eyes scanned her face half expecting her to slap his face and mock him for believing that she would forgive him, but she slipped from grasp smiling and hopped off the swing, and began to make her way across the lawn.

‘Where…where are you going?’ 

‘Into town…Triss is giving a ‘consultation’ to the Marquis, so she said as long as I read the books, I could do what I wanted…so I thought I’d have a look around. That alright?’ Adva frowned a little as she watched the Witcher stalk over to her.

‘I am coming with you… it dangerous in new towns.’ Geralt marched ahead, leaving a confused woman to trail after him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
What was dangerous about this town Adva could not comprehend. There were no dodgy men hanging around in doorways or whores on the street corners. It was a prosperous town. Clean and proper, men tipped their hats to each other as they passed, ladies curtsied and fanned themselves with embroidered fans. Even the vendors were finely dressed and pleasant. Yet, the Witcher walk side by side with her, like some sort of bodyguard, stopping every time she did and following ever movement she did. 

By the time they had reached the town, the sun was up high in the sky, and the people flickered from one shop to the next. The shops were ornate and glistened in the light. Adva moved from shop to shop, browsing, some of the proprietors smiled and welcomed her other gave her a dismissive look, eyeing her dress with distaste before focusing in the finer dressed individuals that came into their shops, but not before Geralt gave them a steel-faced warning shot. When they entered a shop Geralt, instead of browsing the wares, chose to stand off from her watching her intensely. The Witcher observed she liked the sweetshop. The warm sugar gave the whole shop and comforting aura. Adva marvelled as the men pulling taffy, the chocolatier that crafted individual pieces of chocolate and the gelatine being poured into the moulds. But she seemed to have loved the toy shop— marvelling at the objects of such innovative design and craft. Giant rocking horse, size of actual horses guarded the door of the large shop floor; wooden toy soldiers were lined up nearly, doll and puppets laid carefully in cabinets and dolls housed of all sizes and types were on display with miniature pieces of furniture and household products were painted so lifelike that Adva was sure they were real. A little doll set caught her eye, a male and female set; they were pretty nothing extravagant, one came with a little dress, and the other came with a wooden sword. 

‘Ahhh my Lady has a good eye.’ A bird-like women came into view, a homely face dressed in an elegant blue dress. My husband’s favourite, he can make working dolls that sing music and wet themselves but yet he like these things. He says they have a soul…. Men hmmm… Is madam looking for something in particular? Or are you and your husband looking for something for your children? We have some….’ 

‘Ohhh no, just looking.’ Adva cut off the women quickly, dropping the dolls back on the display.

‘Ah, I see…ahhhh newlyweds then…trying… or is it thinking about trying? Enjoying the practice are you?...well we have all your toy needs. Let me know if you need anything.’ The delicate women chuckled as she darted back from where she came from, leaving the pair alone in the shop.

A deep blush formed on Adva’s cheeks as she all but flew out of the shop, followed by chuckling Witcher. 

‘That was not funny.’ Adva groaned trying to hide her face with her hair.

‘Hmmm’ 

‘Geralt’ Adva scandalised as she increased her pace up the street. 

‘Least you know where to go for toys when you have little ones.’ Geralt laughed, his whole face lite up as he smiled.

Adva observed him for a moment; it was the first time she had seen him smile; it was beautiful and made him ungodly handsome. The amber of his eyes lit up like pure fire, and it allowed him to seem less threatening to those who passed him. When he smiled, he was not the Witcher or Geralt of Rivia, simply Geralt the man. The smile made her want to reach up and brush his silver locks out of his eyes, and brush her lips against his. Adva wanted to, but she couldn’t, she wouldn’t make a fool out of herself, he was partially a god, and she was her. 

Shaking her head, she pulled her thoughts away for the urge to kiss him and gave him a soft smile,‘I don’t think there is any risk of that?’

‘I am sure you will have children one day…most women do.’ Geralt offered. 

In honestly it was not something Geralt wanted to discuss with her. As a Witcher, he was sterile and would never be able to produce children with Adva, even if he wanted to. It was another thing on his long list that supported his determination to never mate with her; he would never be able to give her a family, and she would resent him for that which he could never endure. It was almost as painful as the thought of her laying with another man and getting pregnant, having to know that her stomach would swell with another mans child made him feel sickness he never felt before. 

‘No, erm I never… never bloomed as they say.’

‘That doesn’t mean anything. Many women bloom late…’ Geralt offered sincerely. 

‘It's not that…when I was younger…Tradi beat me quite viciously, can’t even remember why…it's the reason Lord Brightwater rehomed me and why the brothel was so keen on having me. The healer at the time thought it was because of that. Cersi doesn’t seem quite as convinced but… doesn’t matter I probably wasn’t going to have them anyway…’ Adva struggled, there was some hurt there deep down but like most things in her life out of her control. It wasn’t something she wanted to delve into any deeper. ‘What about you? I know Witcher can’t have children, but you adopted one right, Ciri.’ Adva prodded wanting to switch the conversation.

Geralt was pensive for a moment but broke the awkwardness between them. ‘She adopted me really; I trained her and kept her safe.’  
‘Where is she now?’

‘With Yennefer.’

‘Who is Yennefer?’ 

‘Someone I used to be close with…but we a too different. But we are still there for Ciri... she is one of my closed friends’ Geralt slowly spoke, unsure.

‘Well, that’s good. Least your still friends and together as a family for Ciri.’ Adva smiled as they made there was back to the archway of the house. ‘This had been fun…we should do it again next time we both can’t sleep.’ Adva smiled softly before she entered the house, leaving a cloudy eyed Witcher behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is okay and staying safe.   
> I have been trying to update weekly but motivation,time and technology hasn't been on my side. But on a good note I manage to get down some oneshot prompts for Geralt/oc or reader stories.  
> If anyone has any prompt please send them over :)   
> Thank you for everyone who reviewed! Please leave a comment below.


	13. Chapter 13

‘Fuck’ Geralt growled fiercely as he lunged at the tree, the poor tree had little defence again the Witcher’s blade, the wood splintered and groaned as the raging white-haired man thrust a heavy blow. At the young age of 158, the thick tree toppled in half with a dull thud, gashes and gouges oozed sap. Geralt kick the offensive tree in anguish, usually training against a tree was something that Geralt would leave to playing children. Still, for the lack of a better opponent, the tree was the unwilling sacrifice. 

A vicious snarled vibrated across his chest; sweat dripping from his body since sunup causing his to cast off the shirt as he had been thrashing out his fury and urges on several helpless trees in the yard. For the past fortnight, he had spent every night chasing his release; eyes screwed shut as he pumped his cock relentlessly, pursuing the craving that could not be satisfied in an attempt to escape the fever that gripped her for a few hours sleep. As soon he had fisted himself to one orgasm, the desire for another seized upon him. The Witcher had not felt like this since he had the first transition from human to mutant, every sensation intense and overwhelming, for the first year, he walked around with a constant hard-on, hornier than a cat in heat. This felt worse; it was like his insides burning out. The smell of her permeated every surface and seeped into every fabric, which was smothering, but he could not manage without it. 

Panting hard, he tossed his sword on the floor as chest rumbled as he roared, punching a sturdy leather bag that creaked in protest. The other side of the mages garden Adva was duelling against Triss. For an inexperience spell caster, she was holding her own, with difficulty but still nevertheless it impressive. A surge of pride filled his chest as Adva caught Triss off guard with a water shot, it shocked her challenger, and lightning bolt crashed down onto the puddle of water created that sent Triss into convulsions. A simple spell but clever strategy, his little mate, was cunning, it made him feel the warmth of delight, of course, he could still protect her but knowing she could have his back gave him pleasure. Triss countered with a violent force push that sent Adva hurtling backwards against a tree, the blouse she wore gapped open at the mid-drift, and the brown trouser ripped at the seam revealing a fleshy section of the thigh. A water swirl twisted round her while the winded women got back to her feet; this did not deter Triss. Wave after wave of assault battered down against the curly brunette, unbalancing her stance, Adva blocked a fair few blows, but the attack was relentless. Adva’s feet began to stumble and struggle to grip the earth beneath her, her arms flayed franticly to conjuring the spell, blood laced the air, and hard pants escaped her body.

‘Guard up, Adva.’

In a moment, the onslaught stops, Triss’s body froze, tense and twisted in place by some unseen force, her brown eyes swam with terror unable to move. Adva’s eyes narrowed in concentration; finger flexed tightly as the whole of Triss’s body went into a paralysis, arms tightly pressed into her body. A strained scream pushed itself through clenched teeth, Geralt’s eyes glided from one woman to the other, Adva stance immediately relaxed as she sent a panicked look over at the Witcher. The Mage fell with a thud. With a gurgled cough and a splutter. Adva knelt beside her teacher, eyes brimming with concerns. 

‘Oh gods, Triss are you okay? Can you stand it? I am so sorry …I’ the young women half sobbed as she helped her mentor to her feet.

‘I am fine…I think…I think that is enough for today. I must be cramping up. I have some research I need to finish, Avda take the rest of the day off’ Triss shot a look over Adva’s shoulder before limping inside.

Geralt looked on pensively, hanging back as he observed the couple, his eyes followed Triss’s figure as she retreated into the house. It was certain that in the last couple of weeks, Adva had grown stronger and much more confident in her ability, but the book was still undeciphered, Triss had spent much time struggle across the passages. With every growing day, the concern increased to discover who or what she Adva was, as with every day the need Geralt felt increased, Triss’s potions only did so much to mellow the effect of their bond. Adva shifted nervously from foot to foot, her fingers twisting and winding in her hands. In their short time together, her hair had grown to swish around her shoulders, which she had pulled into a high pin undo affair, revealing her tendered neck, which meant her scent was even more pungent in the air. The sweat that collects was even more raw and fresh; his cock once again began to harden. To see his mate need comforting pulled out all the primal instincts to comfort, if he put his hands on her there was no telling what he would do and he couldn’t.

‘Will she be okay?’ Adva sniffed.

‘She will be fine’ Geralt grunted out before turning to stride back to his training. 

Adva glanced between the house and the withdrawing Witcher, her eyes a swirl of apprehension before chasing after Geralt.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wood exploded off the poor tree as Geralt thrashed and jabbed his hands into the wood. Surrounding her was a graveyard of trees, fragmented and ripped apart, the Witcher’s sword had broke 20 minutes ago, but this did not deter him. Instead, he now pummelled the battered wood with his bare fists as animalistic noise erupted from his chest. The man in front of her was totally wreaked, pure sin, bare-chested, and ever movement showed of his flexing chest, his hair a mess of silver strand, giving him a wild a dangerous look. Adva bites her lips as she gazed at him; the familiar ache between her thighs was back. In the dead, on the night, the throbbing would keep awake till the agony was too much. Her inexperienced hand clumsily made her down to her wet core, trying to bring herself to the edge; she would teeter for what felt like hours before sobbing in defeat and exhaustion into her pillow unsatisfied.

The longer she stood watching, the more aggressive he became. Despite the power of his thrusts, he seemed tired, the dark circle underneath his eyes were almost violet in colour against his golden skin. It did not escape her notice that he was breathing through his mouth rather than his nose as he moved which for a prised fighter seemed strange, but over the last week, a lot of things he did were strange. The aggressive whispered conversation between Triss and himself, the way he seemed to stalk everyone. He had become more aloof and moody, he would escort her to the town every morning, but often he would remain stony and unmoving if she dared bring up the unnecessary need for a chaperon he would all but bite her head off.

‘Geralt maybe you should stop… you don’t look well. Maybe you should try and get some sleep.’ Adva pleaded as she reached a hand out to grip his forearm.

‘Don’t you think I have fucking tried’ Geralt snarled recoiling back, with a pained scowl distorting his features as he marched deep into the ornament garden.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Geralt growled as he shifts from side to side. He tried adding and taking away pillows, arranging blankets then kicking them off. Flopping on his back Geralt huffed a piece of hair out of his eyes. His skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat from the almost permanent fever that had gripped him for days. The potion on his nightstand remained unopen and undrunk; they had a little effect on halting the effect of their bond. In honesty, he was sure Triss had not up the dosages as he demanded to drive the pair together. Groaning the heat spiked again as he smelt the intoxicating scent of apples and the ocean but there was something more, a musky, earthy scent. Geralt has smelt her desire, and in his weaker moments though of nothing more than throwing her down in the long grass and doing things that would make a harlot blush. The Witcher’s fingers dug into the bedding; he knew that smell, the one that would bombard the house at night. In the dead of night, he could smell her touching herself, a desperate and frantic smell that took all his self-control not to march into her room rip her nightclothes off and ravage her untouched body. 

A soft knocked tapped pieced the deadly quiet of the room ‘Geralt can I come in?’ the tender voice of his mate called from behind the door.

‘Fuck off’ roared Geralt and threw a pitcher of water against the door.

Adva waited a moment, taking several deep breaths before she swung the door open. A soft gasp escaped her lips as her eyes drank in the scene in front of her. Geralt was sprawled across the bed, a white bed sheet the only thing cover his lower half and chest still bare and shinning in the flickering candlelight. 

‘I said fuck off’ the white-haired man raged with glowing amber eyes.

Adva sidestepped the shattered vase on the floor, keeping her eye on the floor to stop herself ogle the man in front of her.

‘Geralt…please let me help. Jaskier told me you have trouble sleeping. I have balm.’ Adva held out a bowl of ingredient, looking through a forest of hair hopefully at the man. 

Geralt eyes soften as he settled down in the middle of the bed and tapped the empty at his side before folding them behind his head, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. ‘What is it?’

‘4 sprigs of Lavender, two blobs of Flobberworm Mucus, Valerian Sprigs, Sunflower oil and beeswax and my secret ingredient.’ Adva listed off as she added a splash of alcohol to the wax-like substance and turned it into a fragrance balm, Geralt could help but smile as she placed the bowl between them and began to mix the whip the mixture into a pale purple paste.

hen she was creating some potion, she looked at her happiest, content and smiling. Geralt notice that about her first then how she refuse to follow ingredient and instruction much to Triss’s frustration instead measuring things out by hand and substituting ingredient she thought would be a better fit. His little mate was a maverick.

‘How did you come across this concoction?’ Geralt sniffed as the air filled with lavender and valerian.

‘Being a maid in a brothel comes with learning a few things, the sorts of melodies I would make salves and balm for would make even you fearless Witcher’s flinch.’ Adva smiled as she continued to mix, occasionally stopping to add a few drops of alcohol to the solution.  
Geralt wrinkled his nose at the thought ‘I can imagine.’ 

‘Here. Rub it into your chest before you sleep in will help ease you in a dreamless slumber. The more you put on, the deeper your sleep.’ Adva smiled tenderly at the tired Witcher. In the soft light of escaping through the curtain make Geralt almost look sweet, unguarded and vulnerable.  
‘I can’t’ Geralt fake coughed ‘I am too ill.’ Another cough.

‘Fake coughing isn’t going to work. I have seen all the tricks’ Adva smiled at his feeble attempt.

‘You’re too caring to leave me here just in case I am telling you the truth. I am too weak’ Geralt raised his eyes brow at her as he gestured to his eyes to his chest.

‘Geralt I have just seen you destroy all the trees in the garden, I very much doubt your too weak to rub a little balm onto your chest.’ Adva countered, pushing the balm towards him.

‘That why I am too weak’ Geralt opposed, pushing the bowl back, letting his large digits brush against hers, enjoying the delicate blush that had started to form.

Half-heartedly huffing, Adva scoped up the soft paste in her fingers and warmed it between her palms. She slowly began to massage the purple paste into his chest, earning a deep moan from him. Beneath her finger, she could feel his coarse chest hair, it rubbed enticingly against her skin, another scope of balm was added, and she smoothly rubbed large soft circles in his chest. Avda worked at relaxing the tense muscles in his chest; it took considerable effort by Geralt didn’t protest. Instead, he lay contented under her hands, purring gently as she worked in the paste. Glancing up a coy smile tugged on the corners of her mouth; the golden orbs held hers for a few moments before the heavy lids different shut. Slowly, her hands slackened as the Witcher’s begin to drift.  
‘Stay with me’ he whispered, grabbing her hands and holding them to her chest as he succumbed to exhaustion. 

‘Good night Geralt’ Adva whispered, pressing her lip lightly to his forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you are all safe and well!   
> I couldn't wait to upload this. I have a few very exciting chapter coming up so please stay tuned.  
> Please leave a comment :)


	14. Chapter 14

Adva liked Triss. While being a skilled mage, there was a nurturing and caring nature to her. They spent many days together, practising the craft of spells and potions. In the three weeks, she never felt so free. Magic surged through her and with every day it grew. It wasn’t just the magic it was not having to wake up at the break of dawn to prepare the morning meal for the tavern, or stay up all night brewing a speedy recovery potion for the working girls who had had one too many customers the night before. Adva and Geralt had to feel into a pattern of sorts; each morning they would meet by the tree and spend the early hour of the morning together. Often or not, Geralt would sit in silence and watch her read or explain to her the various qualities of monsters or beasts. It was comfortable it was Adva favourite part of the day, spending a few hours with the moody Witcher. With each passing day, Adva was privy to a small glimpse at the man beneath all the armour, moods and mutations. A man who was sweet and caring he brought her a small packet of candy peanuts, he would never give them to her just leave them on her desk or would carry the mass of books Triss has dumped on her even little things like holding open the door. It was nice, but it did also reveal a sad side to his nature, a touch starved and painfully lonely man. His touches would linger, burn into her. I made her wonder when the last time someone hugged him, really hugged him. Being an orphan alone in the world, she knew what it was like to have no emotional intimacy; how it hurt. 

For the last week, she rubbed the balm onto his chest, and stay with him till he fell asleep, sometimes she would doze next to him watching over him. Though he was sleeping better, sometimes ten hours straight, he still looked tired, his constant temperature was worrying. Geralt simple shrugged off her concerns with the news that he and Jaskier were going on a hunt. Both had disappeared for a week to a local forest infected by Ghouls. Every day that past Adva had become more adamant that they would not return. At the end of the fifth day, upon their return from their walk, Triss and Adva fell in the door laughing at some local merchant making a pass at the two women with the temptation of free cheese, to find the two men arguing in the living room. 

‘Ahhh Geralt you have returned! We have just had a walk around the town…Smiggle, the Cheesemonger tried to talk Adva into a betrothal with a lump of cheddar.’ Triss’s laugh tinkled then bells in the parlour of the large house.

‘If it had been Brie, he would have got a different answer.’ Adva laughed taken a seat next to Jaskier, who laughed heartily and poured a drink.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Adva that Geralt gave Triss an outraged look, bordering between angry and irritation. There had been many secret looks and meetings in the workshop, behind the thick door. It uneased her. The way her ears burnt when they left made her paranoid. Geralt had been indecisively hot and cold. Some moments made her think they were almost friends than in a second; he would go cold and moody. 

Geralt eyes rolled over Adva form, she wore the burgundy dress, with gold embroidery. It was tight across her chest and waist, showing delicious curves and flaring out at the hips to swish as she walked gently. Her hair had grown longer, and now wavy curls danced along her neck and the start of her back, every time she turned her head a waft of her smell invaded Geralt senses. He had spent the last five nights yearning for sleep; the smell had faded to a delicate reminder of her, calling him back to her. No matter how hard he scrubbed the smell clung to him, it has soaked into his very pores. When the last Ghoul had died, he saddled up Roach and headed straight back, not even bothering to clean the Ghoul blood from his body.

‘I thought you were meant to be studying Botany not how to flirt with cheese merchants. Triss your curriculum needs reworking’ Geralt bite out in a low cold tone.  
Triss glared as the Witcher, with deadly eyes. Five days gone, and the first thing he says to her was that—what a prick. 

‘Adva why don’t you tend to the plant in the greenhouse, I have something to discuss with Geralt.’ Triss cooed and quickly ushered the woman out the room. 

‘Geralt! The past five days, you have been like a lovesick puppy and that the first thing you say to her’ Jaskier scolded hands-on-hips.

‘I am not a lovesick puppy.’ The Witcher growled.

‘You are…Adva is so nice….you…you don't deserve her.’ Jaskier gave a high-pitched squeal, and he threw down his quill and followed the curly-haired women out to the Greenhouse.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A slow sarcastic clap filled the air as Geralt stared grimily at the fire and burnt limply in the fireplace. Triss’s angry eyes were burning into the side of his face, but he refused to acknowledge her. ‘Well done, Geralt! Push her away.’ 

Geralt played his flagon taking deep gulps from the vessel, attempting to ignore the annoying Mage. 

‘Ignoring me? Very mature, you must have been missing Adva immensely. I know she missed you, she kept pinning after you….’ Triss prodded and rolled her eyes, and he continued with the silent treatment. ‘Still nothing…. Well, I suppose you don’t want to know about the exciting discoveries I have made since you departure.’ Triss teased.

Geralt interest was ignited and his attention laid solely on the Mage, who gave him her best Cheshire smile as she waved her hand the table filled with papers and journals. 

‘I sent for all of Tradi’s work; Lord Brightwater seemed to vary keen to get rid of it. Grumpy man. He also added some of Cersi notes as well. Seem your friend left in the middle of the night without saying goodbye to the sour Lord. He wasn’t best pleased. I sent one of the Marquis men to investigate; it appears that she left in the night in a hurry; the portal she used is nothing like I have seen before. No sign of the language in Adva book, I did, however, find an old journal.’ Triss pulled a journal onto her workbench, and pulled several pieces of paper from the book and scattered them in front of the two.  
‘Geralt, Adva has been hidden her whole life…very carefully I might add. Cersi, in her journal, details the girl's growth and powers. Cersi seems very impressed with the girl's waterpowers peaking beyond expectation. There are pages and pages detailing everything magical goal she reached as she grew, how her body is formed, whether her body would be able to transform, or if she has bled. Don’t you think it's strange that ever since she left Brightwater, she had been attracting unwanted male attention? I have had to send away the Marquis men; they kept trying salivating over her. My guess's it's in her pheromones; there is nothing magical coming off her. That smell you're so addicted too. You’re her mate, so it does something more to you on a …metaphysical level. But for the rest of us mortals it does something else entirely, have you not noticed how people are with her? They become enamoured with her, but if you place her in a Whore house, Adva’s scent would be void. Sex gives off powerful odours, enough to hide her in plain sight. Why do you think Cersi did not take her in… and teach her, she placed her where she would be the safest, away from prying eyes of Mages and the like. If we want to find out what is happening, we need to find and talk to Cersi….. Till then I would recommend we take her to Kaer Morhen. She will be away from civilisation, and you can claim her. We need to tell her today…now.’ 

‘No’ Geralt gripped definitely.

‘Geralt! For the love of Goddess, why are you fighting this! What more proof do you need? Do you want me to wheel her out with the words Geralt’s Mate Painted across her chest before you admit it? An idiot could tell that you are struggling. You are barely sleeping or eating, and you're burning up! My potions are not working anymore. Have you read that book of Witches? You know if you don’t bond with her, you are going to drive yourself mad.’ Triss all but spat. 

‘The book said we had a year…’

‘Yes, but with a human mate. WE may not know what she is, but we know she is not human, her bloody scent is enough to send the men around here acting like besotted idiots, for her mate, it must be seven times more potent. Why are you fighting this? Geralt your skin is clammy, I can feel your temperature from across the room. Your mood swings are becoming very wild, even for you. Geralt you are killing yourself…if that happens, who knows what will happen to her.’ Triss was pleading now, not something she usually resorted to, but she was scared for them both.

‘Fuck off Triss…’

‘Goddess help me Geralt... I will tell her myself.’ 

‘You won't!’

‘Why shouldn’t I?’ Triss hunched over him, prodding her brazened finger into his armour.

‘Because she deserves better!’ Geralt pulled Triss back as he roared, lifting a table in the process and launching in across the room.

‘Geralt…’ 

‘She is so pure and untouched. So sweet and innocent. I can’t….I won’t. She doesn’t and will not want me a life partner. I won’t subject her to this sort of life. I love her too much for that’ Geralt boomed.

‘Geralt it not about you anymore. What about Adva, maybe she wants to be with you. To have someone, she had been alone for a long time.’ Triss voice broke into a soft whisper as she reached out to comfort the shaking man.

‘I can’t be that someone.’ Geralt uttered heartbrokenly before turning and rushing away. 

Triss’s heart broke for a moment, for both of them. Love was a complicated thing. For Geralt he felt too much, he loved so devotedly, and fiercely it broke him every time Yennefer stomped his heart into the ground. If anyone deserved someone, it was Geralt. A plan started to form in her head. It would take some effort to push the stubborn Witcher in the direction of the lovely creature, but it would be worth it, she cared too much to let Geralt send himself to early death, and she was already too devoted to Adva to let her be cast off by the handsome Witcher. Smiling smugly she set off, Jaskier would be easy to recruit. If Geralt weren’t going to act, then she would do it for him. Despite the complete mystery that enveloped the woman, there was one thing she did know, the soul bond was strong, and if they didn’t mate soon, god knows what will happen.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Geralt couldn’t help himself. By nature, he was a very sexual being, that itself is one of the reasons there was an attraction between him and Yennefer. That spark of need that burnt between them. They satisfied each other; with a Witcher’s stamina he could go for days, and a mage could at least try to match that. Because of that Geralt could never really say he felt fulfilled with a partner, the nearest being Yennefer and whether that was because of the Jinns magic he couldn’t say. The Witcher had never cursed his sexual desire, he was never short of partners, and his energy seems to be limitless in the area, he has never failed to rise of the occasion no matter how beaten or broken his body. By now he cursed the fate for the situation he found himself in. All 6ft 5 of him stood half-collapsed against a bedroom for that was not his own. 

After storming out, he forced himself to tend to Roach and after that momentary distraction found himself in Adva’s room. After five long days, he needed to calm himself with her scent. His nose had picked up the scent and dragged him like a prisoner to the room the other side of the house, where he had no reason or excuse to be in. The Witcher’s heart pumped faster, the first time in almost a century until it was the only thing he could hear. The perfume of her was suffocating, disorientating and intoxicating, he needed to get away but couldn’t tear himself to leave. Geralt could see the strands of scent in a sparkling blue that curled through the air leading to a swirling mass in the centre of the bed.   
Swallowing hard he approached the unmade bed, tentatively perching on the side, giving at the rumpled bedclothes. The outline where her body had rested was clear; the scent permeated from where she had slept the past three weeks. Inhaling deeply, he drove through the scents, subtle difference depending on her moods and what she had eaten. He deciphered the scents layer by layer till he found the addictive fragrances that had driven him here, it was dark then the other, a navy blue, almost black. Apple and the sea but musky with a sweetness. Trailing his fingers over the bed, he felt it and saw it. Her want. Her desire. Her wetness. 

The scent had soaked into the very fabric of the bed throughout her stay, every night, adding to the aroma. Never had he been so thankful for his Witcher abilities, he saw it. The way her hair cascaded against the pillow as she tossed and turned, clenching her thighs together as she the wetness formed and the pressure became too much to bare. A delicious bead of sweat travelled down her neck, travelling over her left breast and then missing with the other scents on the bed. Clothing would be flung off in an attempt to cool herself down with little or no difference. With reluctance, her hands would travel to her slick thighs in an attempt to rid herself of the ache, her mouth turning into the pillow to muff her sobs of pleasure and growls of frustration as she never managed to bring herself over the edge that she had teased herself along for the best part of two weeks. 

Inside of him, two feelings flourished the sense of sadness that she did not know how to pleasure her own body but also pride at being her first and only, the only man that would teach and feel her. A throaty moan push passed his lips. The rough bronzed hand was slowly palming his raging cock; he didn’t know when he had unlaced his breeches, but he could bring himself to think about it. Instead, he found himself settling himself on the bed, ripping his undershirt in the process, his hand never leaving his throbbing member. 

Adva could come back at any minute, or Triss discover him, but all Geralt could focus on was the heat that rushed through him with every stroke. The Witcher was accustomed to pleasure himself when a willing bedmate was not to be found but never had it felt this good. Palming his balls, they had been heavier than he could ever remember them being, tight and painful, a grunt rumbled from him as he rolled them in his hands, teasing the skin with his fingertips. His other hand worked his length, a generous amount of pre-cum was already dripping across his tip, along his hand to slide effortless up and down his throbbing cock. Rolling his wrist, he pumped up and down slowly, enjoying the sensation, his eyes fluttered close, and a thousand images passed through his mind. Her laying frustrated on the bed whimper his name softly, her looking down at him as shyly she reached out to touch him, and all he could feel was her hand, while the other stocked his hair as she kissed him softly. It was a tender, pushing him slowly along to his peak. 

A hiss escaped him, pushing through his teeth and the scent overpower him, forcing his eyes open. Gold obs burnt down as he watched he hand franticly pound his hard cock. A bead of pre-cum dribbled down. Geralt hips franticly snapped against his hand to meet every thrust, grunts and growl shook against the walls paired the violent sound of rhythmic flesh slapping filled the room, boarding on animistic, with ever sound Geralt chest practically vibrated as he edged closer and closer to release. Pushing himself against the headboard as he dug his heels into the bed as he arched his body, his hand desperately gripped his reddening cock as he feverishly pumped his cock. Grasping his hand out, the Witcher gripped the ornamental bedknob tightly, series of feral roars escaped the panting man. A thick jet of cum spurted out against the chest pooling in his stomach. 

All strength sapped from his body, and the Witcher collapsed against the bed, soft pants puffed out from his chest, as slowly his eyes fluttered closed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jaskier twirled to flower in his hand as he tilted from foot to foot as he observed the woman in front of him, he likes her immensely, it was half the reason he agreed with this plan. Adva was refreshing after spending what was like an eternity in the company of Yennefer. Jaskier felt an inner hatred for the violet-eyed Mage; she treated Geralt as a plaything, he did not disagree that there was some endearment on her side, but the way in which she treated his friend was beyond miserable, Ciri and him caught in the middle. The sad thing is Geralt could not see it, he followed her like a minion, and the big bad wolf turned to a lovesick puppy. Adva didn’t seem to mind the Witcher’s countenance, and there was a genuine affection for him. Jaskier might not have the Witcher’s sense, but he saw the looks, the subtle glances and the longing glimpses. If it weren’t for that, he would have set his cap to her himself. Adva was a beautiful woman, gifted with a voluptuous figure, violently blue eyes and plush lips that gave her a disarming smile paired with a caring personality; she was a catch for any hot-blooded man. But the hot-blooded man she seemed to want to be Geralt, especially going from the way her shoulders sagged as she tended the plants. 

Adva busied herself tendering the plant in the glasshouse, Jaskier had followed her out and tended to her with soft praises and cheerful stories as an attempt to lift her mood. For the most part, Adva kicked herself for being that upset, Geralt lately had often been in a bad mood, but what had just happen wounded her. There was no reason why, nothing had occurred between them, so there was no reason for her to be hurt by his words, but she had thought they had grown close in the recent months. The Witcher’s scolding upset her.

‘We could go to town. Paint the town red.’ Jaskier lightly suggested as he plucked another flower up from Adva cuttings, causing her to look up and break her away from her thought.   
‘…’

‘Come let have a night on the town. My coin purse is empty and I need to refill it with some wealthy listeners. The local tavern is a perfect spot, but I need a muse. Come with me.’ Jaskier cooed as he tucked the wildflower behind her ear.

‘Jaskier…’ Adva started before Jaskier cut her off with a stern look.

‘No…my creative flow is upon me. We will raid Triss’s wardrobe for clothing worthy of you and set off for the tavern. I envision an elegant undo with those pearl pin Triss has, oh and that burgundy dress I saw tucked at the back of his wardrobe. You are going to be my masterpiece, my subject of serenade; all will come to see you and listen to my songs. Now let's get you washed and polished. We are going to eat, drink and sing’ Jaskier bustled as he pushed her out the glasshouse.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jaskier was very pleased with himself, the dress that Triss had ordered was perfect, no man or woman would be able to look away for her. It was tight-fitting column dress in a mix of silk and velvet, at the waist two separate vents shot off in fine mesh material, embroidered in a silver thread, her sleeve made from the same material. The front had a deep V that showed off the milky flesh of her breasts, enticing the eye and showed off a barely modest cleavage. It had taken two gins to get her into the dress and another to let him apply the makeup. Her face was made up by brief sweep of powder, and a dark dusky pink lipstick painted on, making them seem all the more pouting. Two-layer of mascara had been applied to her eyelashes and a light pat of eyeshadow and delicate touch of eyeliner. Adva protested at the reflection at the mirror, but Jaskier ignored her and began to pin her curls over one shoulder with pearl hairpins before pushing her out the door. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

‘Geralt’

The alarmed voice carried throughout the house stirring the Geralt from his post-orgasm doze by Triss’s urgent cry. Casting his eyes around, he found that he had slept most of the day away. The sky was now darkening alarmingly; he was still sprawled across the bed, dry cum still plastered across his chest, his hand still encircling around his half-hard cock. Rearranging himself quickly, he straightened his clothes and slipped from the room as quietly and quickly as possible.

‘Really?’ Triss deadpanned as she tapped her foot outside her trainee's door. 

‘What.’

‘I take it I can’t hope the Adva is lying half spend behind that door? I haven’t heard any screaming.’ The Mage deadpanned cross at him.

‘Triss drop it.’

‘Well maybe if you had she wouldn’t be missing. I can’t find her anywhere. One of the servants saw her heading off into town with Jaskier. That was at midday….’

‘Fuck’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guys, what do you think? 
> 
> I have a little competition for you. I need a pet name for Geralt to call Adva. Best one or the most recommended wins. My top picks are Goddess and Love as a genuinely think Geralt is the kinda guy who would worship you- Well in my dreams he is!!!
> 
> Things will begin to heat up now ;)


	15. Chapter 15

Gin was following like water as was male attention. Jaskier had placed her in front of him as he pranced around the stage he had made in front of the fire. It allowed him to serenade her with sweet song and have an overexcited member of the audience to crowd cheering. The soft siren-like voice eased her into a good mood.

Adva had to admit the bard was very good, there was a clumsy awkwardness to his lyrics, but they words fitted well in the theme of the song and with Jaskier overall character which made him a sensation. It was nice to be able to listen to him properly on the stage where he seems most at ease and confident. Adva had to admit it, she like Jaskier, his eternal boyishness was endearing, and his company was easy and fun, and he had a very good eye for fashion. Looking down, Adva was beginning to enjoy the dress she wore, the colour was very much suited to her, and despite her lack of confidence in her body, the dress emphasised her curves and softness. Many men and women had complimented her on her fashion, and she let herself be cheered by it. For once it was nice to be the centre of attention, and after all, it was only for one night to help Jaskier and to get away from Geralt. 

Adva’s mind was distracted from the hulking Witcher when sauve and polished man approached. With all the civility of a knight honouring a fair maiden the man begged to keep her company. He introduced himself as Earl Crispin Troyden, leaning against the chair with an easy smile. The Earl wore a silk doublet of a quilted design of a rich purple his jewelry dazzled in the firelight. The richest opals she had ever seen, so blue she could almost see the deep of the sea in them and hear the soft roar of the waves. Brown eyes radiated out from a chiselled face with a disarming smile that warmed the room as he observed her gaze with interest. With a soft giggle she forced her gaze away from the beautiful gems and on the bard instead.

‘Your friend, the bard, is very talented.... What brings you to the quiet hamlet?’ Crispin asked gently as he poured her some water, and called a serving boy to bring them some food and drinks. The smell of strawberry and rhubarb made her heady, and all shyness had melted away.

‘I am…taking instruction from a master, yourself? Adva answered she didn’t know why but wasn’t really comfortable discussing her training with the Mage to a stranger. There was something unsettling about the man, not in his manner or actions but in his eyes. They where bottomless, and of a captivating intensity that gave her an immense feeling of comfort. Yet they made her uncomfortable and wish she was staring into golden orbs instead.

‘Education is important. So many young women don’t care about such things; they keep their knowledge based solely on the home and fashion when there is so much more to try. I am here to browse some more books to add to my library collection’ the man smoothly added as he lifted his goblet to his lips. Breathing the smell of books and candle wax deeply invaded her senses, it was oddly comforting within soft undertones of musk and sea salt. The smell remaindered of the gentle ocean breeze that would roll off the dock on a sunny day. Despite its soothing nature, it didn’t very little compared to the of the spiced scent of Geralt, who smell she could drink in for days upon end.

‘You have a library? Tell me about it’ Adva gasped, the gin still flowing through her head.

Over dinner, the man regaled her about his library, the titles the authors. They discussed the finer points of several novelists and books on nature that Adva herself was aware of, it was nice to chat to someone who seemed genuinely interested in her for her not what she could do for them. Crispin even invited her to visit and use his collection to further her studies.

‘And you have no formal education; I find that hard to believe’ Crispin smiled as he poured her another cup of gin. 

‘Never, I would just pick up anything and read.’ Adva laughed as she took another sip of gin. Was this her sixth or seventh cup or was it her tenth, she had lost count seven songs ago.

‘So your patron is very lucky to have awarded with such diligence. He must be very proud.’ Crispin causal commented, leaning back in his seat to fully observe her, something glistening darkly in his eyes.

‘It is hard to tell he is very…steely faced. Most of the time I think he helped me find Triss because he took pity on me’ Adva confessed, taking another sin of the fizzy gin.

‘Your Triss’s new student…then you must be very bright. I have known her for many years; the first time I have ever heard her take on a student. Don’t sell yourself short.’ The man cooed.

A small blush crept up her neck and spread across her cheeks. When the meal was done, Crispin excused himself reluctantly to attend to business but not before he paid and left a generous tip for the meal; and gave a generous handful to the singing bard and shooting her a dazzling smile. The Earl didn’t go far; his meeting was only across the room with two older gentlemen in fine clothing. Now and then he would cast her a smothering look that made her turn a look away; he was very captivating. Intelligent and kind.

‘Seems you had found a suitable beau’ Jaskier purred and he slipped into the seat opposite that was vacate and pour the Earls handful of gold coin into his purse till it was ready to split at the seams. ‘If he attends all of my performance, I will be able to return to a little city holding and start publishing my collection of poems.’ Jaskier ordered his meal and paid with a flourish as he sank a tankard of ale.

‘If it isn’t my little brie lover’ The Cheesemonger mocked as he sauntered to the table. ‘I thought we were supposed to meet?’ the Cheesemonger was not bad looking but had a thin hooked nose from which he seemed to look down on everyone. It gave him a proud and arrogant appearance which he seems to like to live up to. 

Rolling her eyes, she took another swig of gin; this on was mixed with rhubarb cordial and something fizzy that cause little bubbles to explode against her throat as she swallowed. Settling her cup in front of her she squared her shoulders as she turned to him.‘Look Smiggle; I have no idea what you are talking about…I don’t want to talk right now…I am enjoying an evening with someone.’ Adva smiled.

‘No-no-no. The Mage told me you desperately wanted to meet me in the tavern.’

Jaskier smiled into his cup. It was working; all he needed to was to keep a straight face and wait. Casting his eyes across him, Adva stared confused up at the rat-faced man and did her best to ignore it. The gin was giving her the confidence to try and ignore his constant demands; it seemed with gin all manners went out the window, replacing the quiet girl with a bemused woman. Jaskier watch with a masterful nonchalantness. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the familiar figure lurking in a dark corner. Triss was right, after all, a surge of triumph roared within him, and he readied himself to fulfil his part.

‘Must be some confusion good cheese seller’ Jaskier sung. ‘She is already married to a lovely kind man who provides her with an excellent education and has a very with a large sword’ he winked at her ‘so she is good.’ Jaskier beamed up at him, shooing him away with his hand.

‘Married? Bah! Do you expect me to believe it is to you! For the past few weeks, I have only seen her with that Mage and some one-hit Jester who I very much doubt has a ‘large sword’, but I am sure he provides her with more than an education’ The man snarled haughtily, and he bent down to glare into Jaskier face. From the other side of the table, Adva could smell the stale smell of brandy, and the fistful of betting slips tucked into his pockets, all torn and rip, properly from a very unsuccessful night betting with some high rollers. Misery and self-pity fuel the man blindly as he started to jab Jaskier doublet hard with his slimy finger. Casting her eye about she saw Crispin stare amusingly at Jaskier with a hint curiosity.

‘Firstly, it is pronounced Jaskier, Sir. And secondly, I never said I was her husband that is her husband.’ The bard cheekily declared, winking at her.

‘Jaskier stops it; enough I am not married. He is just drunk he’ll….’ Adva groaned in annoyance but stopped as a deadly hush fell over the tavern. 

A large black shadow fell over the two men, and Jaskier looked over the other man shoulder smugly. Geralt stood in his undershirt with his sword in hand as he glared down. Adva gasped, she couldn’t help it. Geralt eyes were almost all black like a man possessed. Stood to his full height, the cheese seller barely came to mid chest.

‘See even the lady denies it…just because…’ The cheesemonger breath caught in his throat as he turned and cranked his neck as far back as he could to see the ominous Witcher hunching over him.  
‘Are you propositioning my wife?’ Geralt low grunt trickled down the man's neck as he towered over the scrawny man. 

Turning around sharply, the small man jumped back in fear, ‘Your…your Geralt of Rivia…. The Witcher…Butcher of Blaviken…I am sorry…I didn’t. I didn’t know that Witcher could get married. She said she…She led me on…’ The man's petty excuses died on his lip, as the Witcher stared unwaveringly at the man. 

‘Get up we are leaving’ Geralt growled his eyes following the man who back out the room. 

Adva made no move to leave. Instead, she folded her arms and scooted herself around the table. ‘No thank you Geralt I am spending the evening in the tavern.’ 

Geralt eyes slowly trailed down to her face, letting his dark eyes drink in her defiant feature. Adva stared up at him for what seemed like an age; she was taken about how feral he looked still. Hair wild and menacing sword glistening sincerely in his hand. The Witcher said nothing but his malted golden eye swirled with angry, body tense, a wave of power rippled from him. 

‘Adva, are you okay? Is this man causing a problem?’Crispin cut in, eyeing the bard and the Witcher respectively. 

‘Who the fuck is this?’Geralt glanced back over at the woman and did a double-take final taking in her form. Her breasts were pushed high up and spilt over the top of the bust, with her breath they flutter gently. Tight and fitted cut left nothing to the imagination ‘and what the fuck are you wearing?’ Geralt snapped and pulled a cloak from the back of Jaskier chair and flung it around her.

‘Geralt stop’ Adva stood and pushed the cloak off her. 

‘I think you are making the lady uncomfortable, how a respectable lady dresses has nothing to do with you and I would appreciate it if you didn’t swear when a lady was present. Respectable men don’t.’ The Earl bite out, taking a step closer.

‘Or what’ The white wolf goaded as he advanced on the man.

‘Geralt….Stop it’ Adva push between the men, lips pressed into a tight line.

‘I said we are leaving,’ Geralt growled not taking his eyes off the other man, but a hand curled around her arm and pulled her behind him.

‘Or I will be a force to place the lady under my protection.’ Crispin stood toe to toe as they stared off at each other. 

Even at full height, Crispin was still barley 6ft to Geratl massive 6ft 5. Jaskier was scribbling furiously into his journal and gazed a shrug as Adva glared desperately at him for help. She had seen the Witcher in action, and even without a sword, he could easily thrash Crispin without blinking. 

‘Adva is under my protection, and if you so much as look at her again, I am going to cut you in two.’ Geralt spoke in deadly calm.

‘My duty is to keep defenceless women safe…I; therefore, place Lady Adva….’ Crispin fell to the floor mid-sentence. Geralt gave a growl in approval pulling back his fist before slinging her over his shoulder and matched from the tavern, ignoring the burst of chatter bubbled as he slammed the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think?   
> Thank you so much for all the pet name ideas! I have a very good idea what is going to happen next. But some of the characters are refusing to cooperate *face palms* But I have up to chapter 22 all planned out.   
> Please leave a comment.


	16. Chapter 16

It wasn’t how she thought she would be making her way back from the tavern, on the shoulders of a very disgruntled man. Her annoyance grew with each person who pasted them, some gave her piteous looks of sympathy, other disgusted glared and most laughed and joked. 

‘You didn’t have hit him.’ Adva grunted out, weakly kicked out at Geralt as he marched down the road, ignoring the looks from passerby. 

‘Hmmmm.’

‘Geralt let the fuck go.’ Adva growled squirming in his hold.

‘Respectable ladies don’t swear.’ Geralt bit out, and a short sharp slap echoed again the tree that lined the road as the Witcher’s hand came down firmly on her backside.

‘Geralt…Arghhhh’ another slap came down on her bottom. ‘Geralt!’ the wide eye women gasped and tried to manoeuvre her way around and shove his hand away from her rear, but the Witcher hold kept her effectively restained in a tight grip, one arm clutching her around the knee and the other hand firmly placed on her behind.

‘Since I am your ‘patron’ I can discipline you as I wish.’ Another blow jolted against her skin. Causing her to gasp louder this time. 

‘Jaskier said that I didn’t…’ Another smack. 

Adva growled at his brutish behaviour, as Geralt began to massage the area that he had just assaulted. They had not been hard, but just enough to pass an electric shock from her body and for a moment, stop her struggling. For a moment she thought about blasting him across the road, but in his state with whatever was wrong with him, it was no telling what might happen. Triss had told her that Witchers were made to resistant magic, and using it against him might make him angrier. 

Listening carefully, she could hear him muttering under his breath, about Triss and Jaskier but mostly about her. ‘why couldn’t you just behave…the things I have done to protect you…that dress…what a prick…bloody bard…gonna tie you to the bed…cold bath…need to up my dosage…burn that dress, no tear it to shreds…no I’ll lose control….I can’t…I’m too weak…I need.’

Adva was convinced the Witcher had lost his mind as they made their way up the gravel path to Triss’s manor. Not a single candle was lit which made the house look desert and the probability Triss might intervene pretty much zero. Vague she wondered is there was anyone home at all, Triss might have had a meeting with the Marquis which meant she would have given the night off. Which meant she was alone with a possibly demented and powerful Witcher who had dragged her out of a tavern after punching out a Earl and slapping her arse. Adva held her breath as Geralt ascend the stair with heavy footsteps against the oak panels. In the dark and on the shoulders of Geralt, it was hard to tell precisely where they were going. With several long strides, Geralt entered a room and placed feet by his bed before he began to pace, crossing the room in three long strides.

‘Geralt what the hell do you think you are doing? What gives you the right to….’The scolding remark died on her lips as he stopped in front of her. Geralt eyes were wild and frantic, his body seems to be shaking, and his chest was rolling with a continuous growl like some beast. It terrified her. Never had she seen a man look so….so feral. Take a step back she moved across the side of the room, he didn’t follow, but his black eyes remain fixed on her as she watched him observed her quietly.

Geralt let his eyes roam over her. The dress was perfect; it showed off her curvy figure, and the colour was hers. The vibrant red compliment her paleness and made her blue eyes shine—a vision of pure beauty. The bodice pusher her tits up and showed them off though the fine material. With every heavy breath he was sure they would spill out. His little mate was delicious, so lush and fertile, staring up at him with wide glistening eyes, lips parted and chest heaving. Then he remembers, her flaunting herself in the tavern letting the men drool at her wearing that, he would have to destroy it, after all, he was the only one that should be able to see her dress like that. 

‘You wore that into town’ Geralt lowly spoke. It was deadly calm as he continued to circle her, with slow and heavy footsteps.

‘Geralt…. You are scaring me.’

Geralt stilled at her side in the dark she couldn’t see him, but the silver beams of moonlight let her see his form shrink back from her with a muttered ‘I am sorry.’ 

The sound of his voice was so small and scared, it made Adva’s heart clench. In the dark, she could see the Witcher move to sit of the bed, even with her eyes she could barely make out the mans features. The figure was slumped and hunched over himself. 

‘Geralt can you light the fire. Please’ Adva tentatively asked as she threatened at the end of his bed.

‘No’

‘Please’ she begged.

Adva watched as the spell was cast and the room began to glow with a soft orange hue. Revealing the pained Witcher staring determinedly at the floor. Adva watched the man for a moment he seemed to have calmed down or at least his eyes were no longer a solid black. Slowly she moved till she was kneeling in front of him she covered his hand in hers. Adva was surprised her did pull away, but his eyes still were trained ahead and refused to acknowledge her. For several minutes she tried to get a response from he remained passive. Huffing in frustration, she gripped his head between her palms and forced it towards her, Geralt eyes slowly focused on her. They were sad and melancholy matching his features which were pinched and tired. 

‘Geralt, you have to tell me what is wrong, …please.’

‘I can’t any more… it's too painful to stay away…. Adva I find you totally and utterly beautiful and captivating; I want you to be mine. Every time I am near you, all I want to do is touch you…please put me out of my misery.’ Geralt lovingly declared with as much tenderness it almost made her want to cry.

She blinked several times and inhaled deeply, ‘Are you drunk?’ She sniffed the air, but all she could smell was pure Geralt, a mix of earthy and spices, warm and soothing. 

‘It disgusts you.’ Geralt sneered and pulled his hand away from hers. Flinching as if he touched burnt him.

Adva had never seen Geralt like this. She had seen angry, wrathful, serious, sarcastic and even on occasion bashful and happy but now he seemed injured, hurt. The revelation was as much of a shook to her as anything in her life, never had she thought she would get that answer from him. It was said with as much hope and sincerity as anything she had heard; she dared not to believe it. Uncertainty surged deep within her, Geralt was not the type of man who would lie and lead her on, he knew what he wanted and took it, by why would he, after all, this time tell her now. If his feeling were effecting that much, why try and fight it? Was he ashamed of his feeling and want to hide them? Or some notion of not wanting to take advantage?

‘No no, I am just…very confused. I thought you and erm Yennefer…’

Geralt leaned forward with a stern face ‘I. Adore.You.’ The word seemed to be sounded out as if they were unfamiliar and strange to him and to make the statement all the more solemn ‘I wanted to protect you, but I am a selfish man an in the tavern….I….I want you all to myself… I need you all to myself.’ 

Adva gazed across at him; his face remained firm and impassive, golden eyes always moving, taking in every minute detail of her face as a wave of emotion crashed down onto her body. Never had she thought anyone would say those words to her, she was dreaming surely. The thought that this beautiful man wanted her filled her with joy, casting away all the self-doubt and uncertain. Did he really like her like that? Could he? 

Geralt watched in hope, but the silence was her answer; his little mate was repulsed and sickened by him. Shifting up Geralt nodded, face emotionless and grimed. ‘I understand. I will leave in the morning. Triss will…’

Geralt stopped as her mouth pressed against his. The feel was almost indescribable; plush full lips moved against his trembling, all velvety and soft. Wide eyes slowly drifted closed as he curled his arms around her curvy form and pulled her against him, his mouth playfully teaching against her inexperience mouth softly humming as she moaned so prettily for him. Slowly he let her weight push him back onto his back to have her straddled his waist, groaning as he felt her body pressed against her.

Pulling back, blue eyes met gold. Geralt couldn’t help but smile as she blushed a crimson red, shielding herself with her mane of curls. Reaching up, he drew her hair over her shoulder so he could look up at her as she beamed down at him. Adva laughed as he stared down at Geralt; his face lighted up in a gorgeous smile as his eyes glazed up in adoration. Bringing her hand up, he traced her cheek, groaning as she felt the warmth of her flesh underneath his fingertip the way she leaned into his touch, yearning for it.

Entangling his hand in her hair, she leaned up, brushes his lips once more against hers, trailing Geralt flipped her, so she was on the top as he let his hand roamed her body. Geralt smirked against lips as her body shivered in desire as his hand caressed her arse firmly, growling into her mouth as he ground into her. His other hand rubbed and massaged her hip and side, occasional brushing his hand against the swell of her breast. Adva panted hard as she pulled back, her lips tingled as she tried to catch her breath. Geralt looked at her with hooded eyes his hands still caressing her delicate flesh; the thin barrier meshed of her dress made her roll her hips in frustration wanting to feel flesh on flesh. Gazing up at his eyes stood transfixed, and with shaky hands, she tumbled with the strings of his tunic, fingertips tracing the lines of his chest, stroking the muscles with a lustful curiosity.

The Witcher leaned up and dragged his nose across her throat, as he tore at the shirt he wore, more caring as she pulled the shredded remains from his body. The smell was intoxicating him and gave him a high he didn’t know was possible; he was unable to wipe the smile from his face. Follow his nose he found the spot that he wanted to mark, it oozed her sweet smell, once they perform the ritual and he sank his teeth in right there she would be his, that thought alone was enough to make him nearly come in his pants. 

‘I could smell you that you touch yourself, your scent was drenched into your skin, the lust, the want... the frustration. Did you play with your clit, finger yourself, tease your nipples. God that smell. I bet you did all three? My greedy little Goddess.’ He nuzzled her throat. ‘Hmmm? Yet, still, you couldn’t come, could you? Need me, don’t you? Tell me to stop before its too late.’ Geralt grunt out against her neck as he rocked his hips into her.

‘Please… don’t stop’ Adva gasp into the hair on the top of his head, she buried her face into the silk strands, clinging to him for dear life. 

‘Hmmm’ 

Pulling back, his eyes roamed over her; her clothes were rumpled and disheveled, her skirt was bunched up around her waist. She was panting hard with a deep blush spanning across her neck. Curls were tousled and fingered through to giver her an untamed beauty. Reaching out he combed his figure through her hair ‘I am going to take care of you, my needy little nymph …’ Geralt whisper against her lip ‘But after that, I am going to worship you,

Geralt flipped her over and pulled up her skirt and settled himself between her legs. ‘Love, anything you don’t like to tell me.’ Kiss ‘You have no idea how many hours I am going to spend worshiping and exploring your body. I am going to have you laid bare in front of me. Only for me to see.’ Geralt smiled as a furious red blush smeared its way against her skin, making it glow. ‘But for now, I will satisfy myself with this.’

Pinning her hip to the mattress with his, the Witcher position her legs as far apart as they would go, slowly rolling his hip against her core, his golden eyes searching her face. They only barriers between them were her underclothes and his breeches. His cock pressing against her heat as the sounds of panting and soft moan filled the air as their hip ground into each other. Closing her eyes, she couldn’t help but give herself over to the sensations that poured across her body. The friction was almost unbearable, sinfully good. Thrusting her hips up to his another wave of pleasure tingled against her core as she felt his hard hot throbbing cock. As his cock brushed up and down, she could tell how long and thick he felt against her, biting her lips, she stared at him as he stared down at her, brows furrowed in concentration. 

Though his trouser he felt how drenched her core come and it clenched and pulsated against him ‘gods you're wet.’ He muttered, eyes pressed shut tightly, as he tried to focus on her pleasure. He easily he could come just like this pushed against her heat, but this was about her, about making her feel the exquisite pleasure that he had brought to her. Adjusting his hips, he placed his cock firmly over her clit and teasingly bucked against her, sending her into a series of shivers. Adva’s body convulsed and trembled; she inched closer and closer to the edge. Her small hand gripped his shoulder, his hips, his arse, the sheets and the pillow she rested against. The pleasure was too much, too good, so many feelings run through her to care about anything other than the overwhelming pleasure she felt.

‘Geralt….I cant….I’ she cried, nails digging into his shoulders as she tried to wiggle away from the overpowering feeling that was building up in the pit of her stomach.

Geralt pressed his torso down on stopping her from escaping his ministrations ‘You can’ he gritted out, his pace never faltering as his hips pitoned against her. ‘Come for me, Little Flower, My Little Goddess, my Nymph moaning for me so prettily.’ He purred, driving his hips forward to chase her release.

The feeling came out at her from no were. It was crushing and brutal, nothing like anything she had ever felt. It rolled over her in waves of heat. Her pussy tightened around nothing as the Witcher’s hips continue to rub his cock against her, pushing her through the tremors that wreaked her body. Adva was vaguely aware of Geralt soothing tones cooing softly at her and one of his hands gently gripping her face as she came, eyes unable to look away from her face. 

Feeling the bed dip beside her disturbed Adva from the tremendous pleasure she felt rippling through her body. Forcing her eyes to open, lazying her eyes lingered and the golden skin of Geralt. His eyes never left her face as he draws her limp form onto his chest and arranged the blankets over her body. Adva smiled at him in her daze as he doted over her comfort. With her last ounce of strength, she snuggled deeper into his body, her thigh brushing against the thickness that hung heavily between his legs.

‘Geralt…I can…’ Adva glanced up biting her bottom lip.

‘Shhh, we have all the time in the world, little flower.’ Geralt purred, pulling her body tightly to his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to update tomorrow but honestly I could stop myself.   
> Thank you so much to everyone who left a review. You really made my day and this chapter is dedicated to you. I loved so many of the pet names I had to put in a many as possible. I think it works Geralt defiantly seems the time type to give his mate multiple lovely names (in private of course)   
> I hope you like this! I will try and update the next chapter Wednesday.  
> As always please leave a review xx


	17. Chapter 17

Adva woke to the birds singing cheerfully outside. It was far later then she would normally wake, the sun now perched high in the sky and a few rays broke through the chinks in the heavy blue curtains that shielded the room from the offending brightness. She was one her side, but behind her, there was a heavy heat blanketing back and legs with a welcoming warmth. Groggily she turned her head to find the sleeping Witcher contently slumbering behind her. As impossible as it was, he looked even more gorgeous, silver hair fanned out across his pillow as lightly he snored. The events of last night came hurtling back to her, causing to bite her lip and cast her eye over the man beside her. Never did she think the night would end with Geralt confessing his feelings or the dry humping, her face redded as she moved to squeeze together her thighs and felt the sticky wetness that dripped from her core. Turning slightly she gazed at the mans sleeping face, he looks peaceful and happy, the corners of lips tugged slightly upwards, the dark circles under his eyes were nearly gone and the fever mostly absent, just the gentle warmth that cocoons him.

Hissing slightly, she felt the strap of her bodice dig further into the dress. Sliding quietly off the bed, she slipped from Geralt grasp and to the little chamber off from his room. The room was illuminated by a wall rectangle window at the top of the room, just enough light to allow someone to care for their daily ablutions but not big enough that anyone could look in. Adva could barely face her reflection in the mirror without a giggle; her lips were red and slightly bruised, hair a wild nest of bed head which she managed to smooth into something a little more presentable, she was sure her eyes look bluer. Her dress was ruined, totally unsalvageable. The netting of the skirts had been ripped and pulled from the bodice; the bodice has been mauled by Geralt explore hands, but she could bring herself to care that much.

Moving behind the screen, careful hands peeled off the tight bodice, sighing in relief. Pouring the water into the washbasin, she dapped the damp cloth across her skin the best she could. Washing the mess from her thighs was the most laborious task, but it gave her time to contemplate what she should do. Should she quietly return to her room? Or slip back into bed with him? Or breezily announce she was leaving. Having limited experience of this left her at a loss, the whole ettiquict was not something she understood. The woman mind cast back over the confession. Geralt seemed genuine hurt when he thought he disgusted her.

‘I. Adore. You.’ The word repeated again and again in her head. What did they even mean? Did he just want a light and casual thing, or was it serious?

Her head hurt, rolling her eye she slipped on her dress, pulling a face as the bodice refused to do up, she pulled one of the Geralt shirts from on top of the dressing screen and pulled it over the top of the running dress. With a deafening, screech jostled her from her thought to reveal a frowning Witcher.

‘Arghhhh Geralt doesn’t do that you frightened me.’ Adva squealed, pulling her cloth tighter around her.

‘You left the bed.’ Scowled the Witcher

‘Is that a question or a statement? Generally, its what people do at some point in their life.’ Adva laughed awkwardly, franticly attempting to fastener borrowed shirt around her while keeping her eyes trained on the man in front of her

‘I mean you left the bed before I woke up.... that not very becoming for a young lady to leave her lover in bed….’ Geralt pulled away and sniffed the air. ‘have you washed’ he growled stepping forward and encircling his arms around her, burying his face in her neck ‘hmmm I don’t like that you washed the scent of us off.’

‘Well maybe we could do it again….’ Adva shyly offered to pull back to. Geralt smirked and leaned forward. ‘After I have a bath.’

‘Woman, you tease.’

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

God bless Triss. The bath had been already prepared. The fact that Triss knew she would need a bath and did not make it back to her room was not something she wanted to entirely think about, but it was welcome. Tossing a handful of baths salts, she pulled a pile of clean clothes from the closet and set them on a chair. Looking at the marks on her skin, a small blush flushed against her cheek, and her heart swelled, this was the happiest she had felt in a long time, hell the happiest she had ever been. Pulling the various oils onto the counter, she sorted through them. The oils where a collection that Triss had presented her with when she first arrived, along with several dresses and perfumes. Laying out the rest of her provision on the counters, she caught sight of a pair of violet eyes staring murderously at her in the mirror.

‘Well, well well, you are not what I expected. So, you are the Witcher Wife. Aren’t you a pretty thing? But not pretty enough. I don’t have all day; tell me the enchantment you use.’ A bronzed skin woman spat at her.

‘What enchantment? Who are you? Get out!’ Adva span around, eyes are running over the woman in front of her.

The strange woman was dressed elegantly. The finely embroidered dress clung to her slim, willowy figure, a clash of black and white was woven into a stunning dress fit for a queen. Yet for all her beauty, they were a murderous look etched on her face, make her look bird-like, with her gaze unmoving and unwavering.

‘Don’t give me that you little bitch’ The woman snarled, and a blast of energy burst from her sending her crashing through the floor.

The flesh of her back slammed with use force she though he had been split in two. Blood rushed through her ears like the sound of a ranging ocean.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jaskier curses the Witch with all his being. He has awoken with a feeling of great relief that the plan had worked, that Adva and Geralt were together. Jaskier was not proud, but he had slipped into the house a while after Geralt had left to hear the soft moans of pleasure drifting through the house. Now he was having to carefully peel a dazed Adva off a pile of rubble all because of that demented Harpy. Pale blues eyes watched as bruised has started to bloom against her pale skin and cuts wept a crimson that smeared across her skin.

‘What happened? Adva blinked up, ‘If Geralt alright?’ 

Jaskier stared down her with sadness, with Yennefer around he knew Geralt would not be able to withstand her predatory charms and Adva would be cast out. A bubble of anger gripped down in the pit of his stomach. It honestly he had thought Adva would be different, but it hadn't been, it was the same as it would always be, Yennefer would whistle, and he would come chasing after her, he was a fool for believing it would be different. At that minute he hated Geralt, he should just whisk Adva away and pray their paths never cross again.

‘Yennefer blasted you through two stories of the house.’ Ciri broke in as came to stand in the doorway, looking down as the tattered women laying on a pile of stones and splintered wood.

‘Yennefer?...Why?…Help me up.’ Adva coughed, a trickled of blood escaping from her mouth. Jaskier looked worriedly over at Ciri who hung back, undecided whether to interfere.

The small was not what Ciri was expecting, not at all. She expected some tall slinking femme fatal. Instead, she was presented with the plump curvy figured woman with deep blue eyes. She also thought that she would have Geralt tied in some dungeon in a stupor, but he wasn’t. He was with Triss Merigold, in her home while both of them tried to calm a very aggressive mage down. Ciri’s light blue eyes run over the woman again in curiosity, never had she seen Geralt use any signs on Yennefer. He usually let her rage and rant till she stopped, but now he was throwing every spell he knew to calm the rampant mage from a second attack on the dazed girl.

Limping slowly, she was relied heavily on Jaskier to support her as she moved. Her whole body ached as she moved. The house was messy; walls where broken, furniture shattered and the marble of the tiled floor drug up in giant patches. Had she lost consciousness? Adva brain was foggy, and she could focus on anything for more then a couple of seconds, she would have remembered this happening surely? The noise alone at least.

‘Yennefer stop! Stop your going to kill her. She his soulmate’ Triss screamed at the top of her voice.

Lifting a very heavy head, she glanced the scene in front of her. The violet eyes woman was pinned against the chimney stack, the mage and the Witcher either side, crowding her submission, for the moment at least. The sound of Triss’s voice ricocheted around the inside of her head with such force she thought she might shoot out again through her ears. Wincing, her tentatively touched her head, bright red blood smear across her fingers. Sucking in a breath, she recoiled with sickness as she forced her misty eyes to focus on the conversation ahead of her

‘You can’t be serious! That creature? She has enchanted you!’ Yennefer chortled her beautiful face twisted in disgust.

‘Yennefer. Listen to me she had not enchanted Geralt. They are soulmates; I checked their bond myself. I used the blood trace Yen; there is no way she could create something that powerful to connect them in that way.’ Triss countered.

‘It not possible.’ Yennefer gritted out, a burst of wind crashed through the window sending papers Triss was holding flying across the room. It was such a force that it pushed her and Jaskier back, papers getting struct to their bodies.

‘We don’t know how or why but Cersi brought these two together. We think it about something to do with her book. Adva is important. She has an Arcana to protect her…we know that Adva is not human just don’t know what. We have spent the last Goddess knows how many weeks trying to find that out. We think that it has intensified the bond somehow. I know your hurt but stop; you kill her you kill Geralt.’ Triss pleaded to throw Adva red bound journal to the mage.

Geralt had her book all this time, and she was his soulmate. Soulmates were partnered souls, Adva brain hurt but she could vaguely recall something in a book Triss had made her read. If Geralt was her soulmate if such a thing truly existed, why not be with her a less he didn’t want to be because he wanted to be with Yennefer. Then why keep her around. Was everything just an attempt to sleep with her even though he clearly had feelings for Yennefer. A thousand thoughts passed through her head, and it made her feel weak, her leg slackened at the feeling and Jaskier grunt under the extra weight.

‘Yen I tried but I can’t… you have to understand…. Just stop.’ Geralt grunted.

The pain in his voice was evident. It was broken and tired. A surge of nausea washed over her; she was stupid and foolish; she should have gone with her first instinct. Of course, he didn’t want her. Of course, he couldn’t when he had someone like Yennefer. He was being forced. A pang of raw guilt knarred at her, he had tried to fight it. He probably resented her. Adva both hated and pitied him at the same time. For making her think that he could want her, for lying to her and for wanting to be with someone else. For bring her to Triss to be taught when she was really just being kept amused. Sheer panic rose in the pit of her stomach; bile rose in her throat.

‘You are really picking her over me. Someone you are forced to be with.’ Yennefer sniffed.

‘It’s not like that Yen, and you know it.’ Geralt spoke calmly but clearly.

‘It doesn’t have to be’ the willowy women whipped across the short distance between them and planted her lips on his.

It was short and passionate. For a brief second, Adva thought he would pull away in disgust, but he didn’t. From where she was standing, she could only see the back of Geralt, but it was enough. It was enough that he didn’t move away. It only lasted seconds, but to Adva it said everything that she wanted to know. Yennefer pulled back; her face was pinched and dejected as she backed away her violet eyes coming to focus on Adva.

‘You little bitch.’ Yennefer bite out lowly as she fingered the red book, looking over at the woman in defiance.

‘Adva…’ Geralt grunted out as he pushed his way passed Triss, his face was a swirl of emotion, which seemed so strange against the usual blank expression.

‘Adva wait’ cooed Triss.

But Adva ignored them, pulling her body away from Jaskier and back out the doorway they had been standing in. Tears weald up ran down her face before she turned and limped away, Jaskier shot a scathing look at the trio as he rushed off in chase of her, Ciri gave the three a lingering look before following.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adva fingering a fading cut on her palm, she knew it had been to clean to be from that night by the fire, but from a knife to draw blood for whatever spell they need to cast. She should have questioned it along with several other things, but she was too caught up in the sheer thrill of learning proper magic that she hadn’t wanted to. Signing, she squared her shoulder and glanced around her room. It was in chaos. The very little she had was destroyed, it broke her heart to see all the clothes she had accumulated in the last couple of month in tatters. Even the leather under corset was ruined. Torn in half by some stray fragment of wood.

‘Are you okay?’ Jaskier asked, cuddling his lute to his chest.

Both Jaskier and Ciri watched as Adva picked through the ruins of her belonging

‘Yeah, I am fine.’

‘Are you sure as I think if I had just found out, I was not human, Geralt was my soulmate, and Yennefer had tried to murder me, I think I would be freaking out. I mean when Yennefer tried to kill me, I think freaking out was an understatement.’ Jaskier pondered.

‘I am just an idiot…foolish girl.’ Adva wavered and gave a watery smile. ‘I will be fine….just a little banged up.’

Ciri shared a look with the bard; it was a knowing look. If she had been Adva walking in at the precise moment, she would have been upset too. She had been there the exact moment Yennefer felt their bond break, she was enraged calling Geralt every name under the sun but as they travelled word of the Witcher Wife spread which fuelled Yennefer to find out what sort of enchantment could break a Jinn’s magic. Love was a very strange thing. But Ciri gave the girl a sorrowful smile as the woman held a ruined bundle of clothes to small cut at the side of her head.

‘I haven’t introduced you to Adva of Brightwater this is Princess Ciri….’ Jaskier merriness died on his lips as Adva blankly blinked at them still pressing the tattered scraps of her material to the side of her head.

‘You're not going to blast me through the wall, are you?’ Adva slowly asked, wincing at the pressure she applied the cut.

‘No…I am sorry about Yennefer; she can be a little bit of a…’ Ciri hesitated, unsure what to say or do, glancing for support at her friend.

‘Harpy? Bitch? Murderous Hag?’ Jaskier offered causing Ciri to laugh, eyeing the other girl in the hope of a reaction but nothing, but return to her searching.

Ciri watched the woman shift through her belonging. She was very pretty, with a very satisfying body, different from Yennefer but she had seen Geralt go through all types. However, in her long relationship with the man, his women always seemed to be…outspoken and forthcoming. The Witcher was not one for teases and disliked the chase. Adva seemed innocent and untouched, very much the virginal type that Geralt didn’t normally go for. Maybe there was something in this whole soulmate thing she pondered.

‘I need to have a bath.’ The curly hair women winced as she bent down to gather the little pile underwear. ‘Could I use you bathroom Jaskier? Mine is a bit…destroyed.’ Adva gestured to the collapsed floor as a door swang clumsily on one hinge.

Jaskier nodded silently, and two pairs of eyes followed her as she scurried away.

‘Right Jaskier explain everything.’ Ciri snapped.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The marks on her skin were still visible, she remembered the tenderness of his touches, and the painstaking sweetest that he lavished on her was excruciating beautiful, but now looking at them made her feel hollow and empty. Slipping off her clothes was harder than anticipated, the dried blood coated her skin and pulled as she attempted to rid herself of the clothing. If the dress hadn’t been ruined by activity last night, it was now. Glancing at the mirror she was reminded of what had happened, the feelings she felt, the way Geralt had felt. The way he acted towards the morning after made her feel wanted, to think it was all fake burnt her. Why didn’t he tell her? Was she really that bad he did not want to tell her? Adva knew the answer, and she refused to dwell on it a moment longer.

Removing the last of her clothes she pulled a stray page that had stuck to her from the pages that the had been in Triss’s hand from the shirt she had borrowed from Geralt, Cersi messy scrawled smeared across the page. It detailed placing her it ‘suitable accommodation’ and how she reacted to her placement in a brothel. Her whole life had been an endly string of manipulation, of being prodded and poked and used. Bitterly she thought she had gotten away from that with Geralt and Jaskier, escaped to a place where she was just Adva, but she was wrong. Her sole purpose was because she was Geralt’s mate or soulmate whatever that meant when he clearly would have preferred Yennefer, the honeyed skin siren. Her mind replayed the scene in front of her, his tone when he talked to the other mage and the kiss. The kiss broke her. She didn’t know who she was the angriest at, Geralt for lying to her or herself for falling for it. Geralt hadn’t really wanted to be with her. They even looked good together, both tall and statuesque; she didn’t fit in with that.

Climbing into the cold water, she was too exhausted to heat it and scrubbed her skin raw till she could no longer smell any of his scent on her skin she wanted to erase any reminder of their night. But the scent still lingered, throwing the cloth against the wall Adva screamed into her hand. It was the kind of silent scream; an angry scream as invisible sobs wracked her body. A sadness waged within her, along with an undercurrent of repulsion. It was quite clear that Geralt preferred Yennefer to her. For a while she allowed herself to wallow in self-pity. The whole revelation that she was not human was a surprise but not something unexpected that was always something different about her something that Tradi took great joy in exploring, her mind went to Cersi notes she most probably knew something about her she was the reason she was placed in the brothel, the reason Geralt took her. A swirl of resentment toward Cersi swelled. Why should she been controlled and manipulated for the whim of mages who didn’t care for her, she was worth more than that. If she could survive Tradi, she could survive anything. Yes, it hurt and would hurt for a long time, but why should she be the one wallowing in self-pity. If Geralt wanted to be with Yennefer he could, she would be okay whatever happened she knew that. That what she thought as she curled up to on the side of the tub and buried her head into her knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly thank you so much for all the reviews! You made my week and really pushed me to getting this chapter out.   
> Sorry this chapter was late! Very busy week with birthdays and work.  
> So what do we think? I know I am a horrible person but blame Yennefer!   
> Some interesting chapters coming up so please stay tuned- I promise that Adva will be kicking ass soon.  
> I hope everyone is safe and well. With all the terrible things that are going on the world seem terrifying and uncertain place but please remember. Three things Faith, Hope and Love. But the greatest of these is love.


	18. Chapter 18 Part One

Yennefer was angry, more than angry. She felt betrayed and usurped. A woman that Geralt had hardly known for more than a couple of months had replaced the mage in his heart. Yennefer’s lips still burnt from their kiss is not the normal pleasant way, the way that used to send shivers of pleasure down her spine and spread warmth around her core. Instead only bitter filled her, his lips felt cold and dead against hers, unmoving and unresponsive to her. Violet eyes stared down at the book in her hands, cracked open to the well-read passage on Witcher’s Mate, angry tears well up in the corner of her eyes. Igniting the book in her hands, she watched in glee as the pristine book turned to ashes before her very eyes, as the fine aches trickled onto the marble floor. Glancing across the table she snatched up the burgundy book and marched around the table intent on throwing the book into the roaring fire, the meagre book not worth the small amount of magic to incinerate it when her eye caught a glimpse of a page. The squiggled writing was not what she expected to see, she knew exactly what the writing was, but it was the drawing itself halted her breath in her chest. Eyes darted around, Geralt paced from one side of the fire to the other for the best part of an hour, Triss trying to pacify the tetchy man who growled and fidgeted as he cast a longingly look to the stairs. Yennefer knew Geralt; she could tell he was using his Witcher senses to hone on the girl, to listen to her. Neither of them was paying any attention to her, and Ciri had wondered off with Jaskier to tend to the creature. Slowly, she slid the book into the folds of her dress; her need was greater than some man stealing slip of a girl.

‘Geralt it will be fine just let her have a moment.’ Triss tried pushing herself in front of the mass of muscles as the white-haired man stalked toward the stairs.

‘She is injured; she needs me.’ Geralt panted, eyes wild as he zoned in on the stairwell.

Triss tried to hold his eyes that were almost completely black with a thin circle of gold surrounding them. ‘She will be fine, Ciri and Jaskier are with her. I will go check on her, but I need to know you're not going to do something stupid like burst in and go all possessive on her.’ Triss bite out eyeing the other mage who rolled her eyes as she talked.

‘Hmmmmm’

‘Don’t worry, Triss; I am sure she will enjoy being dragged away. Sluts like her usually do.’ Yennefer growled, brushing her hair over her shoulder, wafting the scent of lilac and gooseberries into the air, she watched eagerly as Geralt nose twitched. Her face fell when his features twisted in disgust, his eyes never leaving the stairwell.

‘Look who’s talking….’ Triss snapped sending a death glare at her friend, who only responded in a sneer.

Triss turned back, wearily watched as Geralt agonised where he stood, he looked longingly at the stairwell. His healthy glow from this morning was all but distinguished, and the sullen pallor replaced it. Triss followed her hands to where they laid against his chest, the skin underneath them, even though shield by a thick tunic top, was on fire. Frowning, she looked to the ashes that danced on the polished floor, where the book had been destroyed not half a minute ago—bloody Yennefer.

A thin sheer had broken out against his forehead, and his body shook in mild tremors. A wave of nausea washed over him, forcing Geralt to sink onto one of the benches and the purple-eyed mage watched closely. Violet iris roamed over his worn face as he began to shake violently. The bronze hulk seemed to shrink before her very eyes, become a wreak who shivered the warm summer air like a sickly new-born babe.

‘Did you really have to burn the book? Without that, we have no idea what to do now?’ Triss growled as she summoned a cooling flannel to his forehead.

Yennefer took a step closer as observed the scene before her. It was the first chance she had to really look at her former beau. Geralt was still the magnificent figure of manhood, tall and broad, tone bronze muscle peeking out from underneath his tunic and naked forearms. But the lustre had gone from his skin; the glowing skin was now dull and pasty. His cheeks seemed hollow and grey circle lightly graced beneath his eyes that burnt like molten lava, given him a frantic feral look. The Witcher’s frame hummed with an energy that she had never felt before, both primitive and powerful, the type you caught a glimpse at in the ancient ruins long forgotten by man.

‘What wrong? He’s burning up.’ Yennefer damned as she reached out, pressing her palm to his cheek. Hurt rocked her heart as he recoiled, snapping his head away.

‘Geralt…did you started the claiming last night? Did you tell her’ Triss whispered softly, pressing her fingertips to his throat, as the pulse speeded quicker and quicker.

Geralt shook his head and simply grunted batting her hand away.

‘You didn’t tell about her! Geralt for someone so old you are such a fucking idiot. No wonder she ran off. Gods I need to…’ Triss tittered on her feet, glancing between the two.

‘Yennefer come here’ Triss scowled and pushed the mage into the workshop off the room.

‘I know you are beyond pissed off. But for 5 minutes you need can you please stop. If you want to be pissed at someone be pissed at me. I elaborated a whole scheme to push them together. You should have fucking seen him all noble and broody trying to do the right thing and not bond with her, even though it was killing him. And Adva…. the poor girl don’t get me started on what a number Cersi did to her. And I thought the mind fuck Tissaia did on you was bad. Yen, if you had seen what not completing the bond was doing to Geralt, you would have done that same. You need to bring down his temperature, or he will go into shock. I tried Exismo, but he seems to build up an immunity, and with this Witcher's ability, I am not sure what else to give him. I know you are hurt, and I understand, but they have a soul bond so powerful in cancelled out the Jinns magic Please just stop trying to kill everyone for five minutes. I swear if you do anything else to mess this up, then you already have I will never talk to you again.’

Yennefer felt a deep pang of something in her; her best friend seemed determined on the pairing that she had cast her aside. For the doorway, she observed Geralt, a sweaty hunched figure, pushing out a puff of air. Her hand traced the outline of the book she had hidden in her dress. Not for one second did she trust the girl, but she was intrigued. If this were a soul bond, the energy it would create would be phenomenal, as documentation on it was rare, to say the least. It could be useful, and she had nothing better to do but sit back and let the plan of the little creature unfold.

Picking up a large bowl and armful of herbs she swayed over to the polished mahogany table. Pulling the tops of pots with a snap, she deposited as dash, a handful and a sprinkle into the bowl. The bright petals and herbs mixed to do a dry mulch. Adding elven wine to the mixture, she mixed till the concoction was a watery mess of mashed up leaves. Waving a caramel hand over the mortar, concentrating as the liquid simmered and boiled, concentrating as the mixture bubbled into a tar-like gum.

Swaying over she sat beside him, not close enough that they touched, but close enough she could feel the unspent energy spill from him, it was unbearably, the heat prinked her skin till it began to sweat itself. Shimmering back, she winced, a piteous look cast against her old lover.

‘Why didn’t you come to me with this.’ Yennefer’s tone softened, as she wiped the thick substance into his skin in the signs of runes.

‘I think you have just proved why Yen. Besides last time we spoke, you screamed that you never wanted to see me again.’ Geralt scoffed, a sheen of sweat began to form at the top of his forehead down the base of his throat and disappearing down below his tunic neckline.

Purple eyes are taking movement ever as the heavy mixture turned a pale blue as it fought against the heat. Yennefer smiled as the sweat began to stop and dry against his features. Carefully she did the same with his collar bones and then his forearms. Not before long, every inch of exposed skin was covered in blue runes. Still, it took 20 or 30 minutes for the Witcher’s temperature to return to normal, but Yennefer looked on in concern as the Witcher grunted and gruffed in pain.

‘I felt our spell bond break…I thought you had finally found a Jinn to remove the spell; then I started hearing tales about the Witcher’s Wife.’ Yennefer glowered quickly, moving to grip his face to turn him completely to her.

‘I am sorry.’

‘Is sorry all you have to say.’ Yennefer choked out; tears welled up in her eyes. ‘Is that all that I meant to you?’

‘Yen…I didn’t mean for this. I did not believe it at first but…. I don’t want to fight it anymore. Please.’ Geralt rasped out weakly, reaching out his hand to grasp hers. Purple and gold eyes met, and the purple erupted in a blaze of pain. Yennefer glared at his hand, wavering from tears to rage, fat tears lined her eyes as she stared at his hand. Gripping his hand with both of hers, she traced the rough callous and scars that littered his hands, scabbed over from years of bare-knuckled fights and brawls. Tracing every line in his palm, she had spent years looking at him, but this was the first time she had ever really look at him and his hands. He had touched her thousands of times, but now she was touching him, it felt different, he felt different. Casting his hand away, she stood and stormed to the window, back turned as she blinked away the tears. She waited and waited, but he didn’t come to comfort or soothe her as he always did. In the reflection of the window, she watched as gazed longingly at the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I finished this chapter, it was 5000 words long- to spare you a headache, so I broke it into two parts.  
> What do you think?


	19. Chapter 18 Part Two

Ciri paced, cogs turning in her mind as she did so ‘And you had no idea she was Geralt mate.’ She repeats the question slowly as if she was hearing the fact for the first time. Her brain still could comprehend the gravity of the situation. Never in her entire life did she ever think there would be a person that would come between the weird relationship Geralt and Yennefer had.

‘Yes...I mean no… Geralt was acting strange. Possessive maybe, I do not know I mean he has been really moody and bear-like so normal Geralt just more…. I thought he was finally getting over Yennefer and found Adva. Triss put in place the whole tavern thing to get them together, but I didn’t know anything about the whole soul mate thing...Is that even real?’ Jaskier asked, scratching his head.

‘Apparently…. I remember Vesemir making me read something about it...’ Cersi spoke in a clear, crisp tone, ever the princess as she marched back and forth.

Soulmates where serious. A bond locked a pair together, even though unclaimed the bond was still powerful enough to cause major complication and anomalies, proven by the Jinn’s spell being broken and Yennefer unable to track Geralt down using any magic. It was certain the air around the house was far more potent than anything she had encountered in a village such as this. Adva as well as unusual, on first glimpse she seemed perfectly ordinary, pretty, perhaps a little more ethereal than most but nothing strikingly different. But on second inspection her eyes were vividly blue, not the kind of blue human had, they were almost neon in their brightness, threads of silver and green woven through the limpid pools. Her skin was the next; it was pale and creamy like buttermilk, but it shine to it, like the drops Yennefer put on her cheekbones to gives them a luminous quality, it gave Adva features depth, highlight the gentle sweep of her cheeks and brow, the arch around soft, plump lips and the incline of her throat and collar bone as it slipped below into one of Geralt’s blouses. Ciri medallion that hung between her breast did not vibrate but gave out a gentle warmth, indicating something unnatural about the girl, not evil, if it was it would be pulsing harshly against her skin just different. Triss and Geralt were right when they though her otherworldly.

Triss popped her head over around the door; corkscrew curls bounced from side to side as she glanced around the room. ‘Where is she?’

‘She is using my bath.’ Jaskier jerked his head back in the direction of his room.

‘Triss is happening?’ Ciri asked as the mage stepped fully into her room.

Signing, Triss leaned heavily against the dresser ‘Geralt has a soul bond with Adva. They are very rare, only ever seen one and not this powerful. I thought last night would have given Geralt the kick he needed to explain to Adva before Yennefer turned up and the bonding would have started. But that damn stubborn fool didn’t. God knows what is going through her head right now.’

The aggravated mage paced as the young Witcher had before her. Shoulders hunched and head bowed she move from one side to the other, her skirts gracefully sweeping the floor as she did. Even as elegant as she looked, it was funny to see how ruffled the other mage got when Yennefer appeared, Triss always seemed to get frazzled when either friends disturbed her peace. The woman who held together the lodge of sorceress from complete decline, withstood the torture of the Witch Hunters and even the blame for the assassination of her King still could manage the chaos that Geralt and Yennefer created.

‘What will happen if he doesn’t? Knowing Yennefer, she won't make this easy of Adva.’ Ciri folded her arms at her friend.

‘Thanks to Yennefer destroying the only copy of The Witcher’s Mate, I don’t know. The book glosses over most of it. It gives various accounts of 2 confirmed cases and four other possible causes. They clash and confirm each other. All I can say for certain is that if Geralt doesn’t bond with her soon, I dread to think what will happen.’

‘And how do we get them to bond?’ Ciri, felt a queasiness wash over was she asked. In honesty she didn’t want to know what or how Geralt was gonna bond, it would be disgusting, and she had seen enough of that between the two of them to last her several lifetimes.

‘The accounts detail the different ways, some very graphic. That why we needed to find out what Adva was before…but at the minute they can both bloody go on instinct. Both souls must be combined spiritually and physically to ensure completion. We must ensure they do or Geralt will lose grip on all control.’

The three looked at each other in a silent agreement, nodding as they did so. ‘If what your saying is true, why is Geralt so much more effected? How can we trust that this isn’t some sort of enchantment?’ Ciri questioned, carefully. She was ready to believe it all but still there were doubts, niggling little things that crept into her mind.

‘I did the soul bond spell myself; you can’t fake that sort of reaction to a spell. But I have been wondering that myself. Geralt reaction has been…unpredictable, to say the least with buying her and parading her around as his wife just among the very un-Geralt things he has done lately. It's possible whatever creature she descends from has a different reaction then that of a Witcher. Witchers, after all, have acute senses, so it is likely that they would be more sensitive to a bond like this.’ Triss offered as she pulled back her impenetrable mane of thick hair that flopped in her eyes.

Ciri nodded vigorously as she began to pace back and forth again, her mind whirling with questions and problems. If this was true, then they have a very complicated mess to deal with, and Yennefer was not going to be easy to distract from making trouble.

‘There you are.’ Triss smiled slightly as the woman appeared hesitantly in the doorway.

The shivering woman nodded slightly and pulled the flimsy robe tighter around her body, allowing the female Witcher to appreciate the other woman’s form. Carefully, Adva moved deep into the room, eyes trained on the floor, searching for anything to wear that didn’t look like it had been shredded. With a sigh, she relented, she had tried before her bath, and nothing had miraculously recovered from the attack. What few pieces of clothing she had where now rags, fit for nothing but cleaning the stove.

Wincing as she sat, Adva run the towel through her drenched locks, grimacing as her ribs protested violently as she stretched. The pain was of a dull intenseness, like a burn that rapped its way around her black and sides. The muscles strained to move with ever ruffle of the towel. Triss frowned tightly as she moved to seat beside her tentatively taking the towel from her and finishing drying the end of her frizzy mane before placing the towel to the side and gently poked and prodded at her. Just from her probing digit she could feel the blood seep under her skin and through her tissue, the fraction ribs girding painfully against each other as she moved. The force has fractured several bones and broken and few others. The bruise had started to develop, a stain of yellow, purple, and brown, a nasty thing but it could have been a lot worse. It should have been a lot worse. Triss knew Yennefer long enough to know that she had meant to kill Adva, slam her through the floor so hard it would snap her in two. Yet, Adva remained relatively unharmed, nothing that would heal soon. A human would have died on impact or soon after from their injuries, Adva’s physical resilience was only to further prove her inhumanity.

‘Drink this… You have some internal bleeding and a few cracked ribs.’ Triss commanded slowly as she quickly placed the red phial to the girl's lips and poured its contents down her throat as she continued to speak. ‘Adva, I know everything is very confusing right now, but everything will be explained. I promised. Do you need anything now?’ Adva pulled her head away as she swallowed the sour contents.

‘Can I borrow some clothes, mine have all been destroyed.’ Adva asked, is a strangely even tone, refusing to look at her tutor.

Triss frowned across at the two others, who in turn frown back at her.

‘Here…you a bit bigger than me, but these should fit.’ Ciri smiled and pulled a skirt and blouse from her bindle.

They were not like the ones Geralt had given her; these were similar to what Ciri wore now. A white blouse and a brown skirt with some sort of blue braided leather belt that held the two pieces of clothing together. Ciri was a lot slimmer than her, but the clothing was untailored and basic, it would be a squeeze, but these would do. Smiling, she mumbled a quick thank you. The white-haired girl smiled back at her. Sincerely, it was a warm, kind smile, unlike the cruel smile of Yennefer.

‘We will be downstairs, come down when you are dressed.’ Triss gently sighed as she left, pulling Ciri with her.

Jaskier hung back for the briefest moment, his eyes danced along with her feature, his eyes swimming with emotion as he leaned down to press a short kiss to her forehead before leaving her to dress.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As soon as Ciri stepped foot in the room, Geralt clambered to his feet, push Yennefer away as she reapplied the paste to the markings. ‘How is she?’

‘Hurt and confused.’ Ciri puffed out, folding her arms, casting an annoyed look in Yennefer direction.

‘Fuck’ Geralt snarled, grabbing the edge of the mahogany table and with little effort threw it clear across the room. Glass smashed and metal clangoured against the marble floor that sent out a piecing rattle throughout the house.

‘There goes my 500-year-old table from the halls of Vintcorn. Thank you. Geralt…this is why I can't have nice things.’ Triss sighed as a furious bard barged past her and towards the stair well.

‘You! Have you seen what you did to her? Throwing Geralt away and then when he has found someone better, you come in screaming and kicking like a toddler who has found something else with their toy. Why can’t you just leave him alone.’ Jaskier raged, a red hue descending across his face as he prodded a finger at the puple eyes mage

‘Me? I have done nothing but push an upstart down a few pegs.’ Yennefer snapped, slapping his hands away.

‘She has broken ribs Yennefer’Ciri counted, coming to Jaskier side as she glared Yennefer down.

‘Please like she won't heal.’ Yennefer rolled her eyes as she scooped up another glob of goo and reapplied it to the writing across his skin, letting her hands wander inside of his tunic as she drew more magical etching against his pec.

The long shallow breathes she took keeping the bile from rising her throat caught in her windpipe as her eyes fell against the scene before her. Yennefer in all her beauty had herself pressed up against Geralt, hand burrowing deep in her chest, writing in some strange language. Every visible inch of his skin was covered in blue signs. The purple-eyed mages smirked across at her as she scooped up and a dollop of slim and smeared it on a mark near his shoulder. The shoulder that she had gripped when he brought her to the peak of ecstasy the night before. Had he told her? Had they laughed together? Swallowing back bile, she fought the urge to flee, her promised herself to endure and survive. Adva quickly moved to stand behind the bard, her eyes slide from the tender scene in front of her and suddenly found the wooden floorboard in front of her captivating, ignoring the five pairs of eyes that followed her every move.

Geralt eyes frowned at her, brows furrowing as he took in her form, dejected and cowardly. ‘Fuck! Adva, please. Let me …’ Geralt urged forward but halted as Adva flinched away, gripping Jaskier arm tightly as she looked away.

‘Maybe Adva can show me around the Garden...’ Ciri suggested through gritted teeth at Yennefer, who smirked triumphantly as the girl was pushed through the door and into the garden, leaving a desperate Witcher behind.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The garden was bigger than what Ciri had expected. It was like the garden of the palace in Cintra, the one in her keep. It was filled with blue and yellow roses, that gave off sweet scents and attracted the bees and songbirds. Triss’s garden however had thick slabs of bush that were carefully woven into a maze, the entrance of which was guarded by glisten fountain that gushed out sparkling clear water. Squirrels squeak and frogs leapt as they perched themselves on the edge of the fountains wall. The house could just be made out in the distance sounds of shouting, and smashing could be heard. Geralt growls were distinct against the sound of screams and breaking furniture. Triss could just be heard over the noise appealing for calm why a shrill scream had to be Jaskier, attempting to dodge the flying rages of the group.

‘I think maybe I should leave before….’Adva started but was cut of by Triss.

‘Before Yennefer pushes you through the wall again? Don’t worry, Geralt wouldn’t let that happen. Should have seen him after, though he was gonna slice Yennefer in two.’ Ciri laughed as lounged on the wall of the fountain, gazing about her.

Adva stared at the apprehensively at the water; fingers brushed the rubbery leaves of the lily pads, as they floated on the top of the calm water. Ciri could positively see the cogs turning in her head as she stared into the water, gnawing on the bottom of her lip. Curls frizzed in the gentle heat of the noon sun, the skirt and blouse she wore made her look paler, almost haunted but the way Yennefer had acted this morning and then how she draped herself over Geralt would be enough to make anyone look haunted. Especially after what they had done the night before.

‘Where are you from originally?’ Ciri found herself asking as she settled herself on the border of the fountain. Elbows were resting on the knees as she gazed across as the woman.

‘Brightwater.’

‘Yes… I remember Jaskier saying Geralt brought you from the whorehouse there… remind her to have a word with him about buying people later.’ Ciri muttered darkly. ‘Where you are a whore?’

A strained laugh fell from her lips. Nothing that interesting. Just a kitchen maid….I make really good roast lamb.’

‘You will have to make it for me one time.’ Ciri smiled across at her, but the smile turned into a frown as the woman once again retreated into herself.

The silver wolf vibrated against her breast as a surge of water rose from the fountain and whirl behind the blue eye’s woman. The mass rippled and swirled in a globe of tinted blue water. Ciri fingers inched towards her blade but watched in fascination as the woman began to curl the water up from the fountain.

‘How do you do that?’ Ciri gasped.

‘Do what? ’Adva blinked up in confusion.

‘That…the water crafting. Did Triss teach you.’ Ciri gushed with childish glee.

Water control was something Ciri never had the time or patient to master. It requires skill and patience, harmony with one's self and the element around them. Of all the element, water was the most prestigious for a mage to have control over. Vesemir has once tried to explain that fire magic was the easiest, the simplest mage could conjure a fireball, but it took skill to master the other 3. Air is the second easiest, then earth and water. Ciri ear still burnt from her old teacher boiling retort when she had attempted to argue that surely the earth element was harder to control as with water was need for the earth. However, she still remembers is speech. ‘Foolish child, you have proved me right. Water is at the centre of everything; without water, there would be nothing.’ Being the Lady of Time and Space, she merely rolled her eyes and left Vesemir to grumble away, determined to prove him wrong. Fire had been easy. Wind slightly harder. Earth was complex, and the weaker charm had been hard work, the more complex charms had been a struggle. Water was near impossible; she had managed to conjure a limp wave of stagnant water that dropped mid-air and left her hand numb for a week. Yennefer was an expert in fire and air, somewhat compliant at the earth, she had seen the flowers bloom and wither under her control but water she had never seen Yennefer attempt.

‘Oh, I…I have always been able to this. I am sure your much better at it than me. Triss is teaching me other stuff though, she is really good at teaching.’ Adva smiled and rolled the water in the air.

For a moment they both watched as the water bent to the will its master, transforming from one shape to the next. The shining mass of liquid rippled and squirmed as it was pulled this way and that, at moments it appeared to billow into a thick mist before becoming solid again.

‘Who was your teaching before Triss?’ Ciri asked, once again breaking the silence.

Adva paused for a moment, she was hesitant. Before leaving Brightwater, no one asked her anything. The questions made her uncomfortable and exposed, but she did not want to lie or ignore the question. ‘I didn’t really have a teacher…. I learnt what I could from books. Cersi sort of gave me the odd bit of help when she was not at court. I think that why Lord Brightwater let me do some healer work, she was too busy.’ Adva snorted lightly as the ball of water churned harder and faster.

‘Cersi of White Orchard? Yennefer talks about her some time, a brilliant woman, a mother figure to all.’ Ciri did not need her Witcher senses to see the sadness that flicked in the girl's eyes.

‘You must miss your family and friends badly.’ Ciri muttered slowly, watching the woman with great interest.

‘I am an orphan and didn’t have any friends. I thought I had the girls in the Brothel and Cersi, but they ended up selling me to Geralt for 550 coins…. Nesta tried to help, she was lovely. I do miss her. I hope she okay.’ The water crafter choked out, turning her head away to gaze at the billowing water, frizzy curly obscuring her from the other woman view.

‘I’m an orphan too.’

Adva smiled sadly toward her ‘I am sorry but least you have people who care about you.’

‘You have them too…I haven’t seen Jaskier yell at Yennefer before. You must be special otherwise Jaskier would have hidden behind Geralt’ Ciri laughed, throwing her head back, body shaking in a belly laugh.

‘She won't try and turn him into a frog will she.’ Adva cracked a rueful smile, across at the blonde woman.

‘No’ Ciri laughed. ‘Geralt and Triss have got his back. Well…she turned Jaskier into a Donkey a while back. Geralt got her to turn him back…after a few days.’ Ciri laughed louder than she had in a while remember the sullen mule that wanders around for a day, who Geralt had tried to ride after inhaling two barrels of wine.

‘Adva.’ A rough growl echoed against the trees, sending a flock of nearby birds into the air.

Geralt matched out from behind a rose of bushes, closely followed by a pleading Triss. Adva had never seen her tutor for flustered that she almost tripped over her skirts. With a huff, the mage raced ahead as the Witcher was tugged back by a fierce-looking Yennefer who growled something into his ear as her purple eyes fixated on her. Geralt was, as always, a tower of muscles, pulsating with power and rage. Features stern, determined on his current path. Turning her attention back to the pulsating ball of water Adva gazed determinately at it, not even moving when Triss huddle around her, calling her name.

‘Listen Adva; I don’t know how much longer Geralt can stay in control, his body has taken a fever. I think it’s something to do with the bond and what happened last night. Don’t antagonise him; I don’t know what he will do.’ Triss pleaded to lay a tentative head on her friend shoulder.

‘How could you not tell me about the soul bond. I thought you were my friend.’ Adva flinched back, pulling her shoulder away.

‘Adva, please. We need to travel to Kaer Morhen to try and find out what you are then…from there, we can figure out what to do about the soul bond.’ Triss pleaded as she peak tentatively at the arguing Witcher. 

Yennefer was growing more and more agitated. Geralt would not listen to reason, he refused to listen to her concerns, her pleadings, her thoughts, Instead, he remained moon eyed at the girl in front of him, pushing her away as she tried to help him. Jaskier as usually was no help, but he prattled on and snapped like a little princess. Pain surged through her as he pushed her harshly away, disgust etching his chiselled feature, as she fell into the dirt of the path.

Fury. Fury was the only thing Yennefer felt. She wanted to hurt the snivelling girl they way she had hurt her, break her heart, and toss her in the dirt where she belongs before, she crawled back into whichever hole Geralt had found her. Standing she brushed the dust from her dress, ignoring the sniggering from the bard as she focused on Triss who tended and mothered the girl. A girl who wielded water. Interesting, it would seem her prognosis was accurate, the little maid had no idea. She was disappointed in Geralt and Triss, they could see what stood right in front of their eyes, whatever spell she had cast obscured their logic.

‘Well, I can help you with the first thing. This little… creature is Mermaid. Did you never wonder what that funny little writing is in your book? Its sonic script…it what they talk and write in. And it obvious by the control you have on the water. Seriously Geralt calls yourself a Witcher.’ Yennefer scoffed, as she examined her nails with great interest. In the corner of her eye she saw it the girl curl into herself as she glanced from person to person.

‘That not possible, Merpeople can’t live well on land.’ Triss countered. ‘Not to mention she doesn’t have green skin or a tail.’ The mage snapped, pulling the girl towards her tighter.

‘I didn’t say she was a full mermaid. Maybe part mermaid part something else. Merpeople have a turbulent relationship with humans; she might have been rejecting by her pod. Then again, Merfolk is very protective over family; they only use banishment as punishment for the worst kinds of crimes. Besides, they are fiercely secretive, they wouldn’t cast a child into the human land, especially with such an important book. But then again, they could have gotten sick of her and cast her off onto the land, hoping she would die or get killed by the townsfolk.’ Yennefer said with such glee, Adva practically felt her word piece through her, causing her to shrink back in hurt.

‘Why are you being so horrid.’ Ciri yapped, wrapping her arms around her the shivering girl as Triss stood and advance upon her friend.

‘I am not the one who jumped onto the bed of someone who brought her from a whore house.’ Yennefer quipped, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow and removing a golden cylinder from her press and reapplying her crimson smile.

‘I seem to remember you jumping on Geralt about an hour after you met him. Adva has known Geralt for three months and is a far more decent person that you will ever dream of being.’ Jaskier snapped as she sat the other side of the shivering woman and wrapped his own arms around her, replacing where Triss had previously sat.

‘What was that you are ageing, talentless hack.’ Yennefer sneered at the young bard.

‘Aging! I have been told I could pass for a youth of eighteen. Your just bitter because you have been cast aside for someone more beautiful, intelligence and kinder than you could ever be.’ Jaskier all but spat at her.

‘What did you say wretch?’ Yennefer growled slowly advancing toward the bard, but despite his fearful eyes, he remained unmoving at Adva’s side, but the strong Witchers arms held her from her death march.

‘Oh, I see, the little fish playing both sides. What was it bedding the bard before the Witcher? Well, that proves it…they do say Mermaids are oversexed.’ Yennefer spat, a cruel smile as she prodded and goaded the poor girl who, stared wide eyes at the pair. Eyes shining as silent tears escaped her eyes.

Yennefer smiled as she turned in the Witchers arms ‘If I had of known you wanted something to share with Jaskier I would have offered gladly…his mouth must be good at something.’ She purred stocking his chest affectionately.

‘Yennefer stop! Kaer Morhen has the most extensive collection of lore on creatures. We might be able to find something that could help us determine whether Adva is a Mermaid on not.’ Triss offered, conjuring a green portal in the base of some bushes.

‘Sounds good to me.’ Jaskier proclaimed standing. Anything that gets me away from her. Ciri and I will take Adva by a portal; you can do whatever you damn well want.’ Jaskier waved a hand dismissively and flounced of pulling Adva with him.

Adva stumbling to keep up with the singer’s long strides. For a moment, her eyes latched on to Geralt’s, whose eyes oozed feeling and emotion, brimming with a…. sadness and pain. They were so intense she had to look away and curled in the singer hold. Memories of last night flashed through her mind, the grunt and groans as I moved over her. They way he manipulated her body into a puddle of pleasure. It angered her that she wanted to run back into her arms and beg, for what she wasn’t sure but she wanted to beg to stay, plead with him that she was human and shouldn’t be sent away. But she forced herself to look into the portal but not before she caught the glimpse of something. On the edge of the gardens board she though she saw a hooded figure cloaked the shadow of the tree smirking at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to come to yesterday, but Yennefer is annoying and I fell asleep! Out of curiosity, what do people think of Yennefer overall? I have had some interesting discussion about her as a character with a few people on here. I have read the books, watched the tv show and played the game, and I can't shake my dislike her character. I really want to like her, I sympathise with what she went through and understand why she is the way she is but she so unpleasant and aggressive and I can’t work my head around her and Geralt relationship. I always think Triss is a better match then Yennefer. Yennefer is an amazingly strong character but sometimes really needs to understand the world doesn’t revolve around her, and people won’t always do as she wants. I do see a chink of amazing personality before she reverts to her normal self.  
> I would love to know what you think. I know there is a lot of dialogue but I felt like it needed it with the introduction of Ciri/Yennefer and the Mermaid story line.


	20. Chapter 20

The portal snapped closed behind them sending the trio spewing over the hard granite floor. Dust and grit curled up into billowing clouds sending the three into a fit of coughs and splutters. Jaskier poked his head up between a pair of legs and one hand that frantically twitched at the side of his neck.

‘Whose ever knee that is, while that is very pleasant, I am not sure Geralt would appreciate either of you doing that.’ Jaskier bit out, worming his way out from the bodies.

‘I forgot how low the floor was in here’ a muffled groan forced its way out front somewhere beneath the flailing limbs, a white-haired head popped up gazing around the battered room. 

Vesemir had his blade raised and thrust in one of the bodies face before he even recognised the blossoming young woman and her annoying bard. Typically, the Witchers stronghold was only occupied during the most barren winter months, when work was made difficult from the weather. Most creatures limited their attack in the colder weather, drowners trapped by thick ice, wreaths. Kilmore and ghoul attack slowed to the point there was very little money, and it made more sense to hole up in the warmth of the great hall with food and ale sharing stories of the beasts and women they had met in the months of isolation on the path. But for Vesemir the appeal of riding another two months was unappealing, and there was much to be done at Kaer Morhen, the place had fallen into disrepair and could stand to have two months patch up before the others arrived. So, the flash of light and the three sprawling bodies was unexpected. 

Cross-eyed, the bard stared down the blade of the Witcher, who grunted down in annoyance.

‘Vesemir long time no see, how are you? You old….Witcher.’ Jaskier smile nervously up at the gruff man.

‘Vesemir!’ Ciri greeted, standing up and pulling the bewildered former kitchen maiden with her.

‘Ciri! My girl, you’ve grown’ he pulled the slim girl into a bear-like hug lifting her off the grown entirely. ‘And who is this?’ Vesemir puffed out, catching a glimpse at the cowering girl edge herself toward the bookcases.

‘This is Adva…student of Triss, currently first of Yennefer’s hit list, suspected mermaid and Geralt’s soul mate, like actually soul mate.’

Blinking across at the older man, terror surged beneath the brunette skin. The gaze was heavy and piercing as the man all but dropped Ciri to her feet to look the mermaid up and down. Anxiety was back, and she felt like she had back in Brightwater under the scrutiny of Cersi, Tradi or the Vivian. It made her realise how bare she felt in the flimsy clothing Ciri lent her.

‘We need help…figuring out the mermaid and soulmate part.’

Ciri pulled back from her former teacher and smiled at the nervous girl, who eyes now focused solely on her ragged boots.

‘Well… I think we are going to need more chairs in the library. Anyone you annoy Yennefer enough to get on her hit list is always welcome here.’ Vesemir greeted, pulling Adva and Ciri toward the library. 

‘Tell me everything. Bard bring three more chairs from the celler.’ 

‘Brilliant just brilliant’ Jaskier sighed as he made his way through the vast stronghold.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Geralt could not close his eyes; every time he did, he saw Adva being huddled into the portal in the strong embrace of Jaskier. Her retreating figure was etched into his mind for the past three days. The tightness of Ciri blouse over her breast and stomach, the lacing at the top of the shirt could not fasten so in an attempt to make them fit she had pulled the sleeve down into a peasant blouse, exposing her neck and that spot in which he buried his head in it during their night together, the pure scent that intoxicated him. Her hips had strained against the tightness of the dress, Adva hips the more shapely then his young ward, soft and supple, his hands still burnt in remembrance of how his hand buried into her ample hips as he ground into her feeling the wetness against me. 

Scrunching his eye shut, he was forced to relieve that look on her face, the sadness and misery. He wanted to talk to her explain, but as soon as he advances towards, she flinched and retreated behind Jaskier. A furious range formed inside him, Jaskier, the man he had to save so man times who stuck his nose in one to many times, he had dragged her off for him, his little flower, his love, his siren, HIS MATE. Blood dripped from his hands as eight half-moons cut pieced his golden skin, the warm liquid dripped over his fingers and splattered noiselessly against the dirt way he lay. He could not bring himself to care or even feel the mild pain; he felt nothing, just the burning desire to regain Adva, to have her in his arms and wearing his mark as soon as possible. Without her, near him, he felt weak, near collapsed when she had abandoned him, but at the same time field with rage, he laid waste to the Garden, burnt the roses and reduced the fountained to a pile of stones. Before climbing on the back of Roach and riding day and night though forest, bogs and towns to reach his Witchers home, stopping only long enough for the horses to rest and Yennefer to reapply the paste to the runes on his skin. The fever still gripped him, the balm now lasted only a few hours, but he refused to let them stop for the briefest moment to reapply the substance. Instead, he had to feed the need to be close to her; so he rode on closer and closer to Kaer Morhen. As soon as they passed the town of Bastion, he could smell that scent on the wind, apples, and the sea. It calmed and excited him; a pang of anxiety took hold of him. It was something that he never felt before, a panic that gnawed at him for the inside out. He needed to get to her, to explain, to talk and to comfort. 

Being told she was not human and possibly a mermaid in the span of a few hours was a shock. Geralt blink and he saw her distress flash against his eyelids, the tears. It broke him, and he wanted to comfort his mate, but it was Jaskier who swooped in. A silent growl shook his chest as he dug his fingers deeper into his palms, the blood flowing more freely, oozed onto the mud. At the minute, he couldn’t care less about any of them, Jaskier, Triss, Yennefer even Ciri could all go to hell, he could carry Adva away to live in a cave for all he cared as long as he had her. Geralt never thought he was a possessive man, but by the gods, he wanted to have every inch of her and give himself completely over to her. The overwhelming feeling pounded against his temples, and the sharp ache cut through his head as he was brought out of his musing by the harsh whispers behind him.

‘You have never loved him. You just love the idea of someone being there. You treated him more like a lapdog than a lover.’ Triss snapped. 

She poked at the fire angrily as glared at the Yennefer, who in her usual fashion wore a plunging neckline that dipped down to her navel, it was tight and revealing and not a travelling dress, but it not sure practicality was what Yen was going for. 

‘Don’t you think I deserved someone.’ Yennefer half whispered; half yelled.

‘Of course, I do. But you were horrid to her. You know what she reminded me a lot of you when you first came to Arteuza. Lost and scared searching for a place. She even had her own Tisssisa in Tradi and Cersi, a bully who prodded and poked, filling you head with the position. But you managed you had the power and support to getaway. She did not. Have some sympathy.’ Triss glared into the crackling fire. 

‘I sacrificed my motherhood for that. You have no idea what I have surrendered.’ Triss growled.

‘You sacrificed nothing. You gave it away.’ Triss countered, giving her a pointed look. ‘You wanted power and don’t try and kid yourself. I love you like a sister, but sometimes you can be so obtuse.’

Yennefer was becoming increasingly hostile as the days went on, switching from lost little girl to savage man-eating banshee. Every jab and goading comment ground down on the Witcher who pensively look deep into the horizon but Triss knew Geralt; his body was rigid and tense, he didn’t eat or sleep just stare into the fire or huddle up with his back to them for the few brief hours he let the horse rest. And there was only so much more he would be able to stand before he snapped, and she fears that Yennefer would be on the receiving end of that or worse it would get Geralt off in an unbound rage, and he would do something that he would forever regret. 

‘You seriously believe Geralt belong to her.’ Yennefer stood and pace in front of the fire, casting a frantic shadow against the trees. 

‘That your problem, you think Geralt belong to someone. Adva genuinely cares for him. And she did not cast him out over his doing the right thing. That right he told me…honestly, you have no idea how spoilt and nasty you sounded.’ 

‘Well, to me, she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.’ Yennefer smirked at her; it was her character smirk, the one she used when she was right. 

‘That because she thinks Geralt prefer you over her, and she doesn't want to be blasted through the floor again.’ Triss ranted, in a hoarse tone. ‘You draped your self over him, what was she to think.’

‘If she were truly his mate, don’t you think she couldn’t be apart from him. Even if I were draped all over him, do you think he has really changed? He’d have a different woman in his bed every night; she would be pandering after him. Trust me; I spared her the hurt. I bet she had already moved on to Jaskier…’

‘Enough’ Geralt roared, bolting up in bed. ‘Don’t you two have anything else you can talk about.’ He snapped and stood. 

Two of the two women, he loomed menacingly over them, his body stood to his full height as he glared at them with dark eyes. His sword was clutched tightly in his hand, glistening murderously in the moonlight. Trails of sweat mixed with the blue rune and melted down his skin, it was hard to see any of his bronzed skin beneath the mess of sweat and paint. The fever seemed to take hold on his with a vengeance, his breath was coming in heavy pants, as he looked at both the woman. 

‘Geralt…we didn’t…’

‘She wouldn’t do that….not with Jaskier, she needs me’ Geralt gritted out. Triss took a step back, the frantic look in his eyes scared her.

‘Please…. she could barely look at you when they left. Could not help but notice she seemed really attached to Jaskier, they have the whole of Kaer Morhen to themselves…lots of room for screaming. I bet she is currently in one of those lush four posters spread open and Jaskier buried deep into her pussy.’ 

Yennefer laughed. The sound tinkled against the trees and into the night air, it was the only sound that would be heard apart from the occasional crackle of the fire and a distant owl hooting. Triss honestly could not comprehend what was happening in Yennefer head, if she really understood what was happening if she truly believed that Geralt wouldn’t actually hurt her. That he could do serious harm to her with his blade or signs. Part of her wanted that, it ashamed her to say, but Yennefer had been taking every opportunity to push the Witcher to his breaking point, she took great pleasure in it. Yennefer was hurt, and that made her deadly. Still, Geralt wasn’t his normal passive self, who let her push and ordered him about, he wasn’t that lonely puppy craving attention and companion anymore, he had love, or would have true love soon with someone that was wholly different for the mage, someone who was his and his alone.

What happened next surprised Yennefer but not wholly Triss. Aard, the telekinesis push erupted for Geralt’s hands, sending them flying backwards. The purple eyes mage hurtled backwards, through the fire and hit a nearby bolder with a sicken crake. Triss was lucky that the full force of the blast was direct at the other mage, she only caught the edge of the blast sending her stumbling into a pile of leaves and rotting vegetation was cushioned her fall. In horror, she watched as the Geralt leapt over the fire, sword raised, and he swung. She couldn’t bare to watch, screwing her eyes she waited. The sounds a metal hitting stone echoed in the clearing. Then a deadly silence. Peaking out from behind her corkscrew curls, the blade was inches from her face her violet eyes staring wide at the sliver of sharped silver.

The silver-haired Witcher growled and grunted like a rogue animal, terrified and panicked. ‘Never…never would she bed with another…. She is MINE!’ he roared.

‘HOW DARE YOU ATTACK ME! AFTER ALL, I HAVE DONE FOR YOU!’ Yennefer howled sending out a wave of fire out, knocking her attacker off her. 

Groaning in pain, he rolled out the way of another blast before twirling to his feet, with all the grace of a dancer. The sword hummed as he twirled the heavy blade, the wind screamed as it cut through it. Yennefer raised her hand before her as Geralt stood, budging muscle strained against his armour, eyes fierce and deadly. Plenty of times Yennefer had seen the fierce warrior beat down floes with nothing but his trusty sword but never had she been on the receiving end. Magic would be useless, and Geralt could inflict significant damage if he didn’t kill her. 

‘Geralt…Stop! I am sure Yennefer was just being Yennefer. Adva is just confused right now. Finding out your part mermaid and a soulmate to a Witcher in the same day as behind attacked by a crazy Mage is hard to get your head around. You two are soul mates, meant to be. She just needs time to understand and get her head around it all. I am sure she is holed up in one of the rooms waiting for you, alone.’ Triss cried as she jumped in front of them. ‘You need to calm down…please. For Adva.’ Triss called, softly.

The three stood tensely for a moment, both women's eyes on him as he glanced between the two. Panting hard his eyes bleed black, hands tightening on the hilt of his blade. 

Snort pushed itself through his nose as a ‘Fuck’ howled passed his lip as he threw down his sword. Spearing one last glance at the mages, he disappeared into the forest.

‘That little bitch has done something to him. Geralt would never…’ Yennefer huffed, brushing the dust of her dress.

‘When are you going to accept you have lost.’ Triss rolled her eyes as she picked up the silver blade, sliding it back into his bindle on Roach, before sitting back down near the fire and waiting for his return. ‘Rest up; we will be riding on as soon as he gets back. We need to get to Kaer Morhen as soon as possible.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This originally wasn't gong to be a chapter but I felt like it needed to.  
> Someone messaged me on tumblr about why Geralt didn't chase after her through a portal, from what I remember from the books and games Geralt hated portals and only uses them when absolutely necessary so I thought it was very Geralty plus those two need a little time apart. And there will be plenty of time for Geralt to chase after her *drools* can you imagine being chased by jealous Geralt.   
> What did you think? I wasn't sure about the fight but Yennefer was being very annoying. Plus things Geralt and Adva life is hotting up and they have a lot to pick through so it gonna be interesting. And Vesemir! The love I have for that man! Please leave a comment!


	21. Chapter 21

In his 350 years, he had thought he had seen it all. Vesemir the unofficial head Witcher had spent years traipsing up, and down the country, he knew every path and detail of any town worth knowing to a Witcher. However, in his lifetime he did not foresee having to deal with a Witcher’s mate. Barmin, his master had glossed over it in training, dismissing the idea of it being any use. In his training, he and other fledgeling Witchers had become intrigued with the concept, but the master had been dismissive enough to toss them a copy of The Witcher- A History. With a whole chapter dedicated to the Witcher’s Mate. Being privileged enough to witness the building of the Witcher home he knew every book placed in the library and this battered copy preserved the only mentions of soulbonds in the entire Witcher section of the library. Barmin had mentioned that it was a Witcher’s Curse to be bound to another who would wither and die or who would face dying of a broken heart as the life of a Witcher was a dangerous one before placing the book back on the shelf where it gathered dust for the past 300 years. Till now that was.

Making his way up the gritty staircase, books wedged underneath his arms, he let the soft glow of the candlestick light his way from the archive and through the winding halls. Mermaid literature held little room in the main library; Witchers had no dealing with Merfolk for 400 years, he himself only met two. The first was a stunning female, long green hair and pale olive skin, a tail of metallic blue scales, pulling the fresh Witcher from a stormy sea when drowners pinned him down in the murky depth. She had all the makings of the predator, savage and vicious yet in the cave which she dragged him, she had all the tenderness of a maiden. She was inquisitive and powerful, and to the newly made Witcher, she was direct in her wants, spending the night and day making very extensive use of his body. A smile stretched across his feature, and he remembers the dalliance of his youth. The other had been a Trition, the male of the species, while not a beautiful as the female he had been majestic in his airs. He had been just as predatory as the female but seemed to lack in power of the female, it did not have the sharp barbs of teeth, or the ability to walk on earth demanded help to free a water sprite from a tree curse. If indeed the Adva girl was a mermaid it would cause a lot of difficulties. Mermaids where predators plain and simple, with very complex social structures and even more complicated mating rituals, one that they kept closely guarded. This was going to be near impossible. Witcher bonding was going to be difficult enough to get their heads around it didn’t really need the extra stress of figuring how a mermaid bonded. He envisaged many nights slaving over a manuscript.

The library fire is dying. The low flame dominated the dwindling wood giving the room a soft light. He had, on being regaled with all the details excused himself to the archives, Barmin having moved all the Merfolk down there to add a room to the main collection. It had taken the best part of the afternoon to weedle through the mass of papers and books that had chaotically thrown into to achieve with no accord. Dropping the various scrolls and manuscripts, he settled himself into his leather-bound seat and placed the candlestick back in its holder—the soft flare of flame illuminating a slim figure perched on the window ledge.  
‘Dove, I thought you would be in bed.’  
‘Not sleepy…been an eventful day.’ Ciri rolled her shoulder, standing.   
Moving from her perch, she fed the fire three thick blocks of wood, watching as the room was lit up with the roaring orange flame. The food she had gathered of dried meat, cheese and wine still sat untouched, Jaskier had tried to tempt Adva with the cheese and wine to no avail. Picking up the jug, she poured two generous helpings into the spare goblets and sat opposite the master Witcher. 

‘I don’t think I would be able to sleep if I had seen Geralt finally put it to Yennefer. I would have properly celebrated so hard I would be drunk for a fortnight.’ The older man laughed picking up his goblet and throw back his contents, red droplets staining his white beard pink. ‘It would be Geralt that got mixed up with a soulmate who had to be a mermaid. He can’t live simply, even as…Has someone fixed the wall.’ Vesemir gawped at the wall by the window. The peeling stone wall had been replastered and the drafted that has previously whistled through the library on a cold night was no more. He had meant to repair it for the last fortnight, but the north-west staircase was in need of refurbishing, the barn needed to be mended, three chimneys needed sweeping and renovating and the long list of other restorations.

‘Adva and she reputtied the windows.’ the answer was tense and dry as she brought her cup to her lips and took a sip of the strong liquid. 

‘She’s been her ten hours, and she replastered a wall and fixed a window? At least Geralt has the brains to pick a useful mate; I wonder if she does roofing.’ Vesemir gruffed, filling his goblet and downing it once again.

Ciri could feel annoyance rise within her, Vesemir was always dismissive and so distant from his emotions he couldn’t understand her concern. Since arriving, Adva had used the plaster in the hallway, despite their protest she spent most of the day fixing the wall and cleaning, Jaskier had tried to pull her away, but she looked near tears and battered their concerns away. Both Jaskier and Ciri sank back and watched Adva flit around the room, dusting, mopping and polishing. Ciri had never seen the library look so clean. In the space of ten hours, she had fixed the library and cleaned three full rooms before her eyelids began to droop, and Jaskier scooped her away before she could protest and tucked her tightly into a bed in one of the many rooms while Ciri searched through many garments that had cluttered up closets and chests from long forgot herbalists and Witchers that had come and gone to replace her outfit.

‘Vesemir! I am worried about Adva; a person doesn't start repairing buildings when they learn that they are a Mermaid and a Soulmate.’

‘And you know the extensive guide on how someone needs to react when they discover they are a Mermaid or a soulmate, was hardly worth me spending all day in the archives with such an expert already here.’ Vesemire scoffed, his eyes glancing against the bundle he had gathered with some concern. The few books that he found would have little in them to help with their… unique situation.

‘That not what I meant.’ the young woman sulked, pushing her bottom lip out as far as it could go.

‘Do you remember when you discovered your bloodline? It took us three weeks to stop you hacking the dummy to bits. People cope with things differently. If I had to meet Yennefer again, I probably devote myself to fixing the whole castle. You care a lot about Adva, don’t ya? Empathy is the downfall of a Witcher.’ Vesemire scolded. He didn’t know how many time he had tried to drum that into her and Geralt.

‘I…I do I see a lot of myself in her. Alone and confused, betrayed and powerful but scared about it.’ Ciri sighed.

It hurt to admit; it was traumatic. The early years of her life had been so lovely, but the last decade, wave after wave of people had tried to claim her for themselves. Kings seeking power, Witches seeking power, Cults seeking power. They were all the same, trying to imprisoner, impregnate or kill her. It left her feeling insecure and uncertain; she had been betrayed so many time she had lost count. That unlimited power made her a target for every crazed group that emerged from the shadows, but it also made her scared, the power within her had a fine line between chaos and control, and with that enormous pressure to remain in control. Her deepest fear was herself, and what she could do or become, she sensed that same fear in Adva.

‘You have only just met her, don’t get too attached. Yennefer will find a way to get rid of her if not that she’ll turn into a she-daemon knowing Geralt's taste in women.’ Vesemir scoffed dryly.

Geralt was the son he had never had, but his taste in a woman was shocking, there had been that redhead succubus who tried to eat him. The doomed princess in the tower, Renfri. Three herbalists, Triss and Yennefer. He should just stick to a whore like everyone else, it would save a lot of time and effort, and the damage Kaer Morhan would be minimal, the amount of time Yennefer had destroyed something because of a petty argument was unbelievable. Ciri stood abruptly and started to pace.

‘Dove, what troubles you?’

‘I…Yennefer has been….I dunno. She has been difficult…’

‘Yennefer difficult? Never?’ The laughed trickled from the witcher lips.

‘Before they…parted. Yennefer did something….horrid and tried to get Geralt to finish it… he refused, and Yennefer was vicious, and then the spell broke and….’

‘Went batshit?’

‘Batshit is an understatement…. I thought Geralt was wrong… that he should have but I dunno; I was so angry I was blinded.’ Ciri winced at her confession. 

For the most part, she never admitted when she was wrong; she was too stubborn for that; her pride would not allow her the humiliation of accepting it. But there were times, time like these when things became a cluster fuck that she could admit it. Her love for her mother figure, her nurturer and teacher had blinded her to the sheer despicable nature of Yennefer plan, so much so it had made her hate Geralt. But with every passing day, she realised how stupid she had been. Looking back made her wince with shame as she recalled all the unpleasant thoughts that went through her mind and the things she said. Ciri felt ashamed of herself, more so now she was in the Witcher’s Fortress where the memories of their relationship[ resurfaced, all the times Geralt had protected her from the violent tongue lashing of Vesemir for wondering off and training on her own. The times when he gave her a silent hug because he knew what she needed. 

‘Don’t blame yourself, Yennefer has a knack for playing on one's emotions.’ The master witcher soothed in his gruff voice.

Looking up, she felt herself smiling. For all his stubborn grumpiness Vesemir was the kindly grandfather figure she needed. The bias spectator, guiding her through Geralt and Yennefer many, many arguments with a scoff and an eye roll.   
‘I worry about what she will do to Adva. She already seems resigned to being cast aside, and Yennefer will play on that.’

The confession was not something she needed to say out loud; all of them were worried about what Yennefer would do; even Adva could sense it. Yennefer was capable of being truly malicious especial again those who had wronged her.

‘Maybe that is for the best. A Witcher’s life is one fought with danger having a soul mate would be even more so.’

‘You should have seen the way Geralt was with her Vesemir. The way he looked at her was…’ Ciri paused for a moment in thought ‘it was worshipping…I don’t even know how to describe it and when she flinched away from him, I thought he could break down. When she went through the portal, I thought he was going to roar in after her. I love Yennefer, I always will, nothing and no one will change that, but at the minute I don’t even what to be near her.’ 

A dull pain began to throb in the corner of his left eye; there was not enough ale and wine in the whole of the castle to get him through the next couple of weeks. Damn Geralt. First, he had brought Yennefer, who destroyed every room she stayed in and threw furniture carved by their Witcher founders out the window. The elder had lost count of how many times in the past decade, Geralt had found himself at the end of a difficult situation. And this situation was the worse; soulmates were messy, and for Witcher, mates were rare and unpredictable. Geralt would be a muscle-bound mess of raging hormones, worse than when he first mutated and with Yennefer roaming around, lurking in every corner, he could feel the annoyance and irritation begin to build. 

‘It will work out, for better or worse. But from what I know about soul bond, they are very powerful, and it would take more then Yennefer to do that….besides if she is that good at repairs, we need to keep her around.’

If he survived this, it would be a miracle.

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Kaer Mohen was beyond anything that she had ever believed. Nestled in the middle of a vast valley, built into a mighty mountain, the almighty structure was awe-inspiring. Surrounded in greenery and limpid pools as far as the eyes could see, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life. Inside did not disappoint; it was elegant, chequered marble flooring, latticed woodwork, majestically carved furniture, and rugs that while worn and dusty were exquisite. However, it was sure that the castle had seen better days, gaping holes in the roof leaked into the rooms letting in the local wildlife. Plaster was coming off the wall in large chunks, and a sharp draft came whistling through the castle. Still, it the most amazing place that she had ever seen. The library included. The vast collection of books held in sturdy mahogany shelved held behind thick sheets of glass, it was an extensive collection, most in languish she had never seen before, and the desire to pull each one out and read was overwhelming. The library seemed sadly empty just one large table and one comfy chair perched in the middle, books and quills surrounding the work area. 

Vesemir seemed to be making the most of her, giving her a list of chores in the morning and then after their midday meal they would group together and spend the rest of the afternoon and evening in the library. In all honestly, that was fine with her, she didn’t want to think about soulbond or Geralt. A sickness bubbled in the pit of her stomach. Waking up in the bed in a musty room brought back that only the day before she woke in the warmth of the Witcher. At least the chore distracted her from the churn of emotion that built inside of her and the anxiety that came with letting her mind wander. 

‘How can you read this.’ Ciri slipped down next to the women who was engrossed in a book that contained mostly scribbled lines and dots. Just looking at the page was enough to give the former princess a headache. 

‘Lunch’ Vesemir called slamming what could only be loosely described as a strew on the table. Four clay bowl slide into the various place, as they stared down at the brown slop. ‘That is my famous stew.’

The elder Witcher glared at the bard who grimaced at the pot in front of him. The mixture was brown and gritty, whatever meat was unrecognisable, the smell of a mixture of fermented broth and fried meat, it was not unpleasant, but it was not particularly appetising especially with strange unknown bits floating on the top. Jaskier twisted his face in disgust as he poked at it with his wooden spoon.

‘Famous because it kills anyone who eats it?’ Jaskier question letting the food slide off his spoon with a spatter.

Vesemir stared daggers at the bard as he is inhaling another spoonful of stew, most of it coating his beard. 

‘Don’t you have any more books on Merfolk Vesemir?’ Ciri asked, leafing through the pile of red books scattered over the bench.

‘Mermaid isn’t the sort of thing Witchers deal with.’

‘But aren’t they supernatural creature.’ Jaskier retorted his right eyebrow inching up his forehead.

‘Aye, bard they are but never given us cause. Merfolk sticks to deep water and out the way of humans and creature alike. Humans have tried to wage war on them in the early days, but it futile. You aren’t ever gonna win against a creature that can sink whole fleets of ships in one go.’ Another heaping spoonful of stew smeared across his mouth. ‘Time from the time they appear near land but never bother anyone; it does not like they would abandon one of their pod on land…especially a child. I will have enough look in the archive but the literature of the Merfolk in rare. Not many have ever got close enough. I know a while back Geralt helped some duke marry Sh'eenaz, a mermaid, but she became sad, and the couple went back to the sea kingdom.’ 

‘So we have no idea about anything.’ Ciri spoke, slowly eyes resting on the deflated other woman.

‘You are more than welcome to search down in the archive, but most merfolk literature is hoarded by private collectors.’

‘So we don’t know anything.’ Ciri bite out and throw a thick book across the room, pages fluttering across the marble floor.

Jaskier reached a hand across and took Adva’s giving her a reassuring squeeze. The brown-haired woman closed the book, shoulder sagging. 

‘Adva If you promise to cook from now on I will go in the archives myself and battle the army of spiders in search of anything else.’   
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Vesemir brought down the axe forcefully as he broke down the log and tossed it into the giant pile of firewood. From his place on the verge, he watched Adva.

Though, not the most skilful and hone in her technique Adva was accomplished. For a simple kitchen, she had a strong stance which made it hard for Ciri to break through her defence. There was no obvious contest between the two, Ciri was the more skilled and her magic more adaptive, there had been several points in which his young ward had the upper hand, but Adva managed to put on the defence, which she played well. The master Witcher didn’t see that predatory creature that he had met in his experience, just a determined young woman, strong and sweet. He found it hard to believe that she could be a mermaid. Her ability with water being the only real characteristic that they shared. There was no killer insisted, no savage passion within her, no flailing tail or hissing fangs, just a scared little girl that he now had to keep safe.

Slamming the axe down Vesemir took himself to the side to watch the pair closely. Ciri seemed to tire of being pushed back, stepped up her attack by using her blink power, teleporting her way around her. The gruff Witcher couldn’t help but smile, the little girl who would sneak off to practice on her own was no a skilled warrior. Adva’s movement became panicked and jilted as she dodged the attack, frustration ebbing in her every movement. Collecting his roofing tools, he made his way across the stall and once against back to the field to collect the ladder. This time Ciri seemed to be on the back foot. Adva’s attacks were precise and direct, one after the other. A water blast threw the young Witcher off her footing, causing her to stumble back, and whip of water then appeared out of nowhere lashing itself across her side and wrapped itself around her wrist slamming her into the dirt. 

Vesemir stilled, his body is tensed his eye trained on the pair, grabbing for the axe he embedded in the tree stump. He saw it, the killer instancing, the way her eyes shone that little bit brighter. Ciri recovered well, shifting her body to the left in a blur of blue light escape the confines of the water vines before rolling up on her feet and brushing the dust off.

Adva blinked, several times swallowing heavily as she took a step back as she felt the adrenaline still racing through her vein. 

‘Good attack. Never really seen anything like that.’ Ciri smiled, standing to her full height. ‘Next time I won't go so easy on you. I better go see how Jaskier is doing. The spiders have properly cornered him in archives. We will pick this up again tomorrow…but you are going down’ Ciri smirked, nodding at Vesesir before ascending the step of the balcony. 

‘I see Ciri found you some clothing, more practical for doing maintenance. You can help me patch up the roof, get the tar and meet m by the ladder.’

Looking down, she pulled at the outfit she had been given from a large box of items left by the various people that passed through. The bottoms were a pair of duelling trousers made from a shammy leather material, making them soft and stretchy, that held her tight across the arse and allowed for free movement. They were at least 50 years old but kept pristine by the mothballs packed in the trunk of clothing. The deep red material suited her and at least didn’t show the dirt from the unkept castle. The top was an oversized tunic that fell to mid-thigh; it was thick enough to keep the chill that had started to cling in the air. A cracked old belt clinched tightly around her waist to keep the oversized garments from slipping off her body completely. 

Pushing her way up the steep bank to the courtyard, Adva pulled the bubbling tar from its fire. The courtyard held the shed and the stables it was up at the top of a sharp incline; it leads all the way round to the training grounds which Ciri had been handing her ass to her for the best part of the day, a sense of pride swelled within her as she laid the foul-smelling tar into a bucket. She had managed to keep upright and had a few good hits, she was improving, and her powers had developed in the passing weeks with Triss. Training with Ciri proved that. 

When the bucket was full, tentatively she pulled it up the ladder on top of what she thought was a storage shed beside the kitchen. Vesemir was already hard at work, hammering in think sleet slate into the missing patches. Wordlessly, the master witcher tossed her a tarring brush, a thin stick with a rag attached to it and nodded toward the slates. Between the old tiles was a thick layer of tar, filling any minute gaps in which the water to seep through and flood the room beneath. Adva swilled the brush into the thick liquid and plastered around the edges of the shingles. 

The height was not her favourite, the mere thought of going any higher made her head spin. They worked in silence for the best part of an hour, as soon as he finished one, she would swoop in and slather the thick goop on the slabs. It was clear to see where Geralt got his mannerisms, the way they both puckered their brow when they were concentrating. The way their eyes shifted as they worked, head shifting at every noise. These features were not different that Geralt could not pass for his son, but Adva had made a deep study of Geralt, his features where sharper, more defined. Both men had strong physic, after years of training and monster hunting, but Geralt's frame seemed bulkier, shoulders broader and arms solid with muscle.   
A deep wave of shame consumed her. She had promised herself she wouldn’t think of him, but he crept into her mind. A melancholy fell over her, it was a numbness, at gnawed at her core. 

‘Next is the west staircase, I will teach you how to tack and shave down the boards.’ Vesemir grunted as he threw the hammer into the dirt as he made his way down the ladder. Holding out his hand to help Adva down, grabbing the bucket and brush and tossing it to the side.

Adva nodded, thankful for something to do.

‘Never thought a little girl would be much good a roofing you are a strange little thing.’ 

Adva laughed awkwardly, wiping her hands on her piny. ‘You know what brothel is like, all hand on deck. I cooked, cleaned, mediated, fix roofs, walls, beds.’

‘Not much of a life for a little girl.’ Vesemir stared down at her; it was an uncomfortable gaze, that pierced through her.

The master witcher looked at her, his medallion didn’t vibrate, but there was a warmth to it, just enough to heat the skin beneath the wolfs head. He wasn’t sure that she was a Mermaid, but there was something. Something strange. Something different that he could put his finger on. But now she looked like a scared little girl, a girl being dragged from one bad situation to the next. Tough and hard-working but most of all, frighten of that power within her. It bubbled under the surface, threatening to rear its head. 

‘Last time I check I was a woman…well, Mermaid.’ Adva shot him a steely determined look. He wasn’t sure what she was determined about, but it made him give out a snort, it reminded him of Ciri when she first stumbled into his home.

‘Well, Mermaid…we better get back. I think Jaskier is dying for more of my cooking.’ The older man gave her a small smile as he guided them through the courtyard.

For once, he was as near as excited as a Witcher could be to see Yennefer again, as he could tell that sweet little maid was going to give her a run for her money. A deep smirk set into his features, if he had anything to do with it, Yennefer would definitely have a run for her money.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be out last weekend, but drama has got real. I work in a school, and it’s a mess. I have been trying to sort out all my evidence for a qualification I have been doing, which is draining, and family are having health issues. But I am happy to announce that smut is insight. I have been planning out future chapters, and they are looking good.   
> I am also having flashes of inspiration for a GeraltxOCxEskel story if anyone is interested. I love Eskel he is like a giant cuddly teddy bear! It properly won't be out till I finish The Witchers Mate, but I am also playing with a squeal which is just a series of one-shots.  
> Please let me know what you think!


	22. Chapter 22

It had taken a little over ten days to reach the Witcher stronghold. At day five, Geralt had felt ready to crawl out of his skin and demanded that one of the mages conjure up a portal to take them to Kaer Morhen. The itch under his skin had grown into a raw pain gnawing at him, his dislikes for portal didn’t matter he would just cover his eyes and plunge deep into the gateway. Triss with a piteous frown as she refused to state that ‘both of you need space’ and Yennefer simply smirked and turned away. It meant Geralt spent the next five days barely sleeping or eating; he had gone through a gallon of the smelly gloop to keep the fever at bay. As soon as silver tower peaked over tops of the trees, Geralt charged Roach off in a mad dash to the castle. Bracken and brambles tugged at his leathers, but he barely noticed them in his focus of her scent. It was everywhere, that blend of apples and the ocean, soothing and heady. But there was something different, something else mixed in with it, tangy and fresh. Zesty and fury like ginger and lime. It has a seductive edge to her usually nubile smell.

His heavy footfalls echoed through the valley as he stomped up the stone staircase and threw open the heavy oak doors as it, they were weightless. The scent of her was enough to send him into a frenzy; it was everywhere. Beads of sweat began to slide down the side of his neck; he had been able to smell her for the last two day, the slight scent on the wind. He had smelt the slight change in her scent, but he couldn’t imagine it would affect him in this way. In his half-fried brain, he half expected her to throw herself into his arms; if she had suffered the way he had, she would be a mess of need. But there was no one to welcome him, just stretch after stretch of empty halls. No Jaskier or Ciri or Vesemir. No Adva. He had caught a glimpse of his old master’s mare wandering around the field, grazing on the wild grass and weeds. Tearing from room to room he searched in vain, ever room he dismissed the scent grew stronger till, at last, he found them on what had once been loosely called a veranda, that had been repurposed into some sort of outdoors study. Books stacked chest high. Piles of manuscript tucked neatly at the side and stacks of paper protectively held down from the wind by a furious wolves head paperweight roaring at him.

‘Where is she?’ A gruff voice barked out, breaking the three from their study.

Ciri and Jaskier eyes immediately snapped up to the tired-looking Witcher before sharing a dark look. His mentor, on the other hand, didn’t show much as look in his direction, merely turned the page and continued reading. Vesemir didn’t need to see his student to know what sort of state he was in. His voice was like gravel, and there was no energy behind it. Jaskier frowned at his friend and a twinge of guilt; he had been somewhat hard on the Witcher last time he saw him. Geralt looked exhausted, dirty and dusty, hair an unkept mess and harrowed eyes lost their glow but still held that ferrous intensity.

Ciri also saw it, but Witcher eyes also gave her the keen sight to see past beyond the surface, he was barely clinging on to his sanity, his eyes were mad and crazy. It scared her; his eyes had always been impassive seeing them so full with emotion was disturbing.

‘Cooking dinner. Apparently, they don’t like my cooking.’ Vesemir growled out at the young bard; his narrow eyes swept over them before resting on the younger Witcher. The harsh eyes soften slightly as he took in Geralt frame before hardening again, letting them full down on the page with a scowl.

‘Well someone had to tell you at some point, it pretty diabolical. Hello, sweetie, I see you have done lots of research already’ Triss smiled as she slides into the room silently trailed by the violet-eyed mage.

Triss lent in and peaked the younger girl on the cheek before dropping down exhausted into one of the seats.

‘Good. Adva and I were pressed ganged into slating the roof yesterday, I have tar in places I didn’t know it could be stuck, and Jaskier has actually been helpful for once getting all texts from the archive.’ Ciri playful smiled across at Jaskier who sat ideally tunning his lute having given up research several hours ago

‘You let her up on that death trap.’ Geralt growled inching toward the older man.

‘She is a good worker, and the roof needed doing. And don’t give me lip boy you aren’t too big to get a hiding.’ Vesemire stood, chair strapping dangerously on the stone floor as both men took the measure of the other.

It broke him to see his young ward to look so…so broken. His hair was wild and covered in blue smears. His eyes were glowing a dangerous orange and always moving, body twitching with excess energy, but he looked tired, exhausted even, deep bruises had formed underneath his eyes, making them appear sallow and hollow.

‘She could have fallen and broken her neck. She is not a servant for you to order around.’ Geralt snapped edging himself closer to his former tutor

‘Adva wanted to help out, and frankly, if you hadn’t let that mage of yours off her leash, that mate of yours wouldn’t be mopping around the castle looking for a distraction from the shit show that usually comes with your romantic relationships.’ Vesemir spat out.

‘This is not going to end well…but it will make an exciting Ballard.’ Jaskier half-whisper is stunned awe as both Witchers sized up to each other.

Geralt gazed down at the older man, their size had never really come up, there wasn’t much difference in it, but Geralt was just slightly taller, but that bit of height gave him the ability to look down at the older man. Never in his entire life had he wanted to strike him, they had always had a solid bond, a close a Witcher could get to a father and son relationship. With a silent snarl, Geralt gave him one last look before storming off toward the kitchens.

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Once upon a time when Kaer Morhen had been a flourishing Witcher stronghold, the kitchens feed hundreds of people. The hearth was large and spacious with room to roast several roasting pigs. There were three large stoves, and an open smoking pit and oven, along with a prepping bench that stretched across the large kitchen and large open window shone light from across the valley where the sun rose, and the sunset providing the kitchen with light every possible moment of the day. Back in Brightwater, this would have been her dream kitchen; it was light and airy with every possible thing she wanted or needed. The one in the brothel was windowless and had what you would barely call a roasting pit which billowed out smothering smoke that blinded and choked her. It made her sad inside to know that the kitchen would only service a handful of people anymore; it seemed such as waste.

Despite her heavy heart, she felt okay, just incredibly numb. Food had no taste; fire had no warmth; the wind could barely be felt against her skin. Even Jaskier’s silliness did not affect her. She knew he was funny, playing the jester to make her happy, it was hilarious, but she had to force herself to laugh, to smile and join in, but she felt cold inside. She was content to hide away in the kitchen pandering to Jaskier need for edible food or help repair the dilapidated castle anything that made her forgot for a brief moment. Forget that she might be a mermaid, forget about Geralt and Yennefer.

‘Adva’

She tensed as she felt Geralt’s gruff tones echo across the pantry. As soon as she turned around, she regretted it, he looked so adoring, so in sorry and it broke her heart. Quickly turning, she forced herself to focus on the meal she was preparing in front of her—a simple meal of leavened bread cakes, eggs, and spiced vegetables. The dried meal had been soaked in oils and herb and roasted in the pit with garlic and sliced figs. The Witchers had been self-sufficient here with various trees and vegetable patches planted which meant her meals could be that much more flavourful and at least better than whatever that dish Vesemire had prepared on their arrival.

‘Look I really don’t want to talk about it.’ She sighed as she placed the bread cakes in a serving bowl and slicing the meat into mouthful chunks if she turned around now she would be a goner, she knew that and kept her gaze trained on the chopping board in front of her.

‘Avda…’ Geralt croaked.

Throwing her knife down, she half screamed in frustration ‘Geralt! It's fine; I get it. You prefer Yennefer to me, it's fine. I understand I am not upset. We will find the book you can break the bond, and you can go off with her. Can we just not talk about it please I just want to forget about it.’ Tears were now welling up in her eyes and threaten to spill onto her cheeks.

‘Adva, please.’ Geralt pleaded. ‘You need to listen to me. We need to talk, please….. I know I messed up by not telling you….but I have been so confused. I have been attached to Yennefer for so long… But all I can think of is you, every fibre of me needs you. You are my soul mate….Please Adva.’

Geralt reached out his bronzed hand and grasped her forearm gently turned her to face him. Blue eyes met gold orbs, and she felt herself melt. The warmth of his hand felt good against her skin; she could help but sigh as the feeling it was the first time she had felt anything in so long, it gave her more pleasure than anything before ever had, well almost. The hungry look in his eyes took her back to that night. She wanted nothing more than to push him down on the table behind him and…. The though were more explicit than she ever thought herself capable of.

It would be so easy to full into his arms and forget the events of the last ten days, but then that violent eyed mage face entered her mind. 

‘No…just no. I can’t; I just can’t be near you right now. Please leave me alone.’

‘Adva…How can I prove to you that I don’t want her, just you, only you.’

‘You didn’t tell me. You go from Yennefer to me because of your ‘bond’, and I won't be there when you change you mind.’ Adva’s voice was barely a whisper.

‘You know that not what this is….I could never do that. Let me worship you my little flower.’

Pulling herself out from his grasp, she could look at him; she couldn’t trust herself to look at him not now. ‘Just…just stay away from me. I can’t; I just can't right now. Stay away from me.’ She whimpered out before escaping out the room into dark ache way to collect herself away from the sounds of crashing furnisher.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

‘Dinner’ Adva called, swiftly made her way to the library and pulled open the dumb waiter and immediately began to offload the food onto the table. It was not a very fancy meal but it smelt good, but she couldn’t force herself to feel hungry. A sickness bubbled in her stomach, and she carried the food to the table, bowl by bowl. She agonised over her discussion with Geralt. Part of her believed him, but the other part felt relieved; she knew this story all too well. It had happened to too many of the girls on the brothel, promises of love destroyed them, made them totally dependent and vulnerable to the men that promised them everything, only for them to be cast them off and move onto a new woman leaving behind a wreak. It happened to one girl, in particular, Soffie, a pretty young thing, 18 and bright-eyed whisked off to some exotic land but an elegant merchant. The blonde woman child followed after him and returned 18 months later looking ten years older having whore her way across the country to get home. Soffie was never the same as that her eyes lost that spark in her eyes, flirted with died eyes as she took man after man to her room. She refused to be like that, but every part of her schemed she was doing the wrong thing.

The food smelt wonderful, full of fresh herbs and toasted spiced, the buttery bread gave an oddly comforting aroma, but she felt no hunger or want to eat in fact she felt sick thinking about have to force it down her throat. Jaskier slid in next to her and Ciri wedged herself next to her, sandwiching themselves either side of her. Geralt stalker over and slide himself opposite her, staring darkly across at her.

‘Have you cleaned?’ Yennefer asked in the manner only suited to a queen, arrogant and dismissive. ‘I am glad to see you putting the creature to work.’ She sneered at the group huddled around the table.

Five pairs of eyes glared up at Yennefer as she sneered down at Adva, her eyes slide over to the prepared food, and her lips curled back over pearly white teeth. Adva was torn between wanting to shrink back in her seat and wanting to throw the plate of glazed vegetables into her perfect face or pour the bitter ale over her head and ruin the stunning dress that clung to her body. If you could call it a dress, it was a thin strip of silk that wrapped around her shoulders and dipped down to her naval where it was tied in an attractive knot and bellowed down into a floaty skirt. Truly, Adva had never wanted to harm someone as severely as she did now.

Instead, Adva lifted her shoulder and pulled on a piece of bread, nibbling on a corner. It was soft and chewy, but it turned to ash in her mouth. ‘Have you found anything?’

‘Not really, just a lot of lore and eyewitness story.’ Ciri breezed as she poured himself a long drink. ‘

‘Did you find anything more in the archives’ Adva smiled sweetly as Jaskier who was devouring a bread cake laden with the roasted vegetables and meat.

‘Just this…It an accord from the last war with the Merfold and the Humans. It nothing interesting but look at the signature.’ The bard pushed the scroll into the centre of the tabled.

It was an elegant piece of material. It was not the usual discoloured yellow but a pale green. It shimmered in the sunlight, and the smell of seawater still lingered in the air. Reaching out a pale hand Adva brushed the paper with her middle finger, the silky parchment slide across her flesh as she traced the signature on the paper. The curl of the letters spelt across the bottom of the page next to a scruffy scrawl.

‘Cersi…’

‘It appears Cersi and Mousesack acted as arbitrator between the two parties. The Empress Azalea, First of Her Name, The Protector of the Deep and Waves, Queen of Navacis, Sovereign of Sirei, Mother of all and ruler of the Great Sea met with Leopold the Ready to discuss the peace treaty between the two kingdoms.’ Ciri explained pushing the document toward the Mage and the Witcher.

Geralt skimmed the document, narrowing his eyes at the lengthy text—a mix of sonic script and Novigradian. How a text like this got into the archives was strange, it should have been locked in some vault or the archives at Oxenfurt. Underneath it was the incomplete family tree of Empress Azalea, deep crinkles wove their way onto his brow as he gazed down at the small pile of papers. A page about the full history of the high court and the great families of the Great Sea. Mermaid were notoriously private, which meant little was known about them and that their research would uncover nothing that would illuminate the situation. Something caught the corner of his eyes, something that felt important but he couldn’t exactly put his finger on it.

‘So you think that Cersi became friendly with some Mermaid who gave her a child to look after who she abandoned to a torturous mage and then brothel.’ Vesemir scoffed, scooping up another palate full of meat and vegetables.

‘Cersi put her in the brothel to protect Adva. The mermaid physic emits pheromones which could have put her in danger from others…it’s the only thing that would make sense.’ Triss smiled across at her young pupil.

The caramel eyed mage took the hand of the young mermaid. The poor girl's hand was icy cold and sweaty. For her sake, Triss hoped that Cersi had placed her in that brothel for that reason, it was the only thing that made sense, a less Cersi had a darker motive which she prayed to god she didn’t, she didn’t know how much more Adva could take.

Ciri glanced around the table, all, ever Yennefer seemed to be in deep thought, somberly munching on their food. Pondering on the fact, Ciri spoke ‘Have ever you thought that maybe Cersi is her mother? And she had an affair with a male mermaid.’

‘Titian. No, I would have smelt it’ Geralt muttered pushing the document away from him. ‘Besides being a Mage it's unlikely, most are infertile having gone through their…. Transformation.’ Geralt muttered, glancing behind him to the stoic raven-haired Mage.

Adva knew what that entailed, Cersi had spoken a little about her regret about seeking out her transformation and losing her womb. Part of her often wondered if Lord Brightwater and Cersi kept her for the temple of mages to keep her from that vicious alteration to her body. Part of her wanted to say that if she had been training in the Magely arts that she would have refused the procedure, but there was a lot, she would have changed. She would like to be taller and slimmer; she was all curves and thick body parts. She would keep her eyes and lips, and her noise though slightly too big gave her character. Her breasts were too small and hips too big. Maybe she would have changed them; her womb didn’t seem that big a sacrifice to her, hers didn’t even work anymore that’s to Tradi’s nightly beating.

Vesemir bleached loudly ‘It not impossible. Merfolk is the oldest document race. Many scholars believed they were the first race before some cast themselves out of the water and crawled onto the land. It would not be surprising if they had access to some sort of fertility magic or something. I once met a sailor who claimed that a Mermaid cast as a spell on his seed and he went on to have 13 children.’ The older man shrugged dipping his break in the mean juices.

Yennefer look down at the girl who was looking gloomily poked at her food, casting a curious eye over her figure. If that was true, the girl might be a useful tool in her pursuits of a family. A smirk stretched across her lips as the girl glanced up. The smiled faltered as Adva blue eyes met her violet orbs. A swirl of angry and hatred burnt brightly. The little fish was starting to turn into a shark.

‘Cersi smell is wholly different from Adva; it improbably they are related. Mothers and daughter usually have the same base smell.’ Geralt gruffly added.

Vesemire nodded, started to know one another piece of meat

‘What about I ask Crispin? He might have something in his book collection that could share some province.’ Adva piped up. ‘The Earl, he did say that he had a large collection of books on creatures and plants, he hinted about some rare pieces in his collection.’

‘Oh, it Crispin now?’ Geralt snapped. Jealous surged within him, she could barely speak his name, but she freely spoke about a man she barely knew.

Triss rolled her eye at the stropping Witcher, ignore the sound of several doors the slammed behind him ‘I will send a message to him, he should be back at his manor by now. He might be able to help…I hope.’

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adva paced. Might be a word she had come to hate. Might be able to help. At this point, hope wasn’t enough. Everything that she found raised more question then answers. If she really was a Mermaid, had her parents given her to Cersi? Or was she stolen? Was Cersi her mother? The question was enough to bring her to tears. Up until now, her life had been uneventful; in the past four months, there was enough to last her a lifetime. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the heady scent of oak and spice. Geralt. Angry tears welled up in her eyes, shining in the moonlight. Gods! Her body was burning with a need for Geralt while her mind was screaming at her to run away from Geralt and Yennefer as fast as she could. She hadn’t seen Geralt since he stormed off during dinner. Yennefer, on the other hand, had stayed in the library till they all retired for the night. Yennefer had been very quiet, but the glares she sent across the table where vicious and menacing. Part of her wanted to run a hide somewhere, but a bigger part of her wanted to rip her apart. It scared her. Never had she ever wanted to hurt anyone with such a ferocity of feeling, she could feel the energy simmer under skin throbbing away violently.

Throwing open the window, the cool breeze caressed her skin. In the darkness of the surrounding wood, a figure stood vigilant beneath a mighty oak. Even in the darkness, she could see the outline of a man bundled up in a fine black cloak his face hidden in the shadows. She didn’t know why, but it gave her an overwhelming sensation a dread. The man had no right being up here, it was the hidden sanctuary of the school of Wolf and the long-kept secret to the world, how a man had wandered up here and found it scared her. Even at this distance, she could sense the man's face twist into a scowl as he tenses himself.

She watched the shadow hesitate against underneath the door—the wind dying in the air.

Creak! The floorboard screamed under the immense weight of a heavy boot as they moved through the corridor.

Whirling around, wide eyes fell on the door. The thick line of light shone out across the darkens floor shifted as a figure passed over it. She knew, she just knew who it was. The figure shifted outside the door wavering on the threshold. Geralt was looming in front of the door. Her breath caught in her chest as she watches the shadow shift from side to side. A soft groan vibrated through the wood as a weight lent against it. They both knew they could sense the other separated by a thick strip of wood. All he had to do was to turn the handle. All she has to do was to turn the handle. But they didn’t. A low growl grew from behind the door, shaking as it built in intensity, making the air thick with electricity.

Adva gulped as she watched the shadow retreat from the door before the warm orange glow disappeared descending her into darkness, only the pale light of the new moon illuminating her room. Turning back, the figure was gone leaving the lonely oak tree surrounded by a deep dark shadow. Blinking several times, she refocused on the patch of dirt where the man stood to find nothing but a lonely branch waving in the wind.

She was losing her mind, squeezing her eyes shut, she slipped under the quilted blanket, snuggled down into the bed and flung the cotton over blanket on top of her shivering body as anxiety twisted and knotted in her stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I have taken so long to update. I finally got my qualification, and I am now a teacher! This has meant I have been trying to set up my classroom and set out a lesson for next year and as a lot of them are practical and need equipment, it meant I had to try and sources all the stuff. So much fun! --__-- After about Jully 22nd I should be able to relax and get back into a solid update a week.  
> Just to let you know shit is going down next chapter so please stay tuned!!  
> As always please leave comments and likes. If you want me add you to the tag list please direct message me. Lots of Love!


	23. Chapter 23

Geralt was struggling. It was not something he liked to admit, but being so close to Adva and not being able to touch or talk to her was the most intense pain he had ever felt. He had taken her at her word and left his mate alone, giving her a wide berth, all the while staring longingly as she went about her business. Thankfully, she spent most of her time with Ciri, training or in the library. Geralt could barely contain it when Vesemir spent more than 5 minutes in her company, let alone Jaskier. The way the bard slide in next to her as she worked at the table or slung his arm around her shoulder had cost several clay mugs and three chair arms. The bard was doing it on purpose he was sure of that, even now Jaskier was strumming out some filthy ballad.

‘Here she saw little Smitty Jones, walking in the crowd "Come home with me, little Smitty Jones, come home with me tonight. Come home with me, little Smitty Jones, and sleep with me till light"’ the brunette cooed in an off-pitch warble.

The gentle giggle tinkled out into the air, and her eyes light up in a bright glare as she laughed. A surge of unbridled jealousy roared within him. She hadn’t some much as look at him like that since that night. That fatefully night. Throwing a glare across at the singing minstrel, Geralt slammed closed the book sending Triss and Vesemir into a series of splutters as a cloud of dust billowed into the air as well as sending the various scroll clattering across the table and scattered onto the floor before and storming out the room.

The Witcher flew out of the room into the main hallway. Unfortunately, the first thing he saw was a grand antique cabinet, the poor thing was wretched from the wall and sent screeching across the polished floor, a thick gash cracked down the main body of the wood. Grunting, Geralt pulled his hand down his face, a roar vibrated from his chest, echoing across the hall as his hand caught sight of the blue sweat that glistened in the weak sunlight that beams in through the stain glass window. The blue substance that Triss had been painting across his body no coated the majority of his body. It was another constant reminder that Adva had rejected him. Everywhere he went, he left a trail of blue. Despite only wearing the thinnest material he continued to drip with sweat, the sticky ooze had lost most of its potency, barely giving him an hour of relief. Soon he would have to leave, the last of his control was ebbing away. It took all his strength not to sweep in, throw Adva on the table and rip her dress off before burying himself in her thighs and sticking his teeth into her tender flesh. The hours he had spent imaging the bonding, it would happen in several stages, and all of them lead to Adva becoming a panting puddle underneath him, begging to be his. There was only one thing he wanted more than that, and that was her marking him, her longing for him to be hers. But no, at the current situation that would not be happening, and he would need to leave soon before he became feral and gods know what he would do if that happened.

‘My, My, such an angry Witcher! It seems your little mermaid has gone off you.’ Yennefer purred as she revealed herself from behind a stone pillar.

Turn round golden eyes trained on to the mage, a silent sigh running down his body. The dress was, compared to the other he had had to endure, was relatively tame. A velvet halter strap encircled her delicate neck and a tight correct displayed firm breast and a toned waist before the black velvet fell over her hip in a billowing skirt. At least she was wearing clothes this time. For the last ten days, he had seen his former lover naked eight times, the last time sprawled in his new bedroom down by the lake. Since her last attempt to seduce him in the armoury, Geralt took sanctuary in the old lake hunt to rid himself of the mages unwanted advances – and not to tempt himself with any midnight strolls past Adva room.

‘Yennefer don’t.’ Ciri bite in rolling her eyes at the older woman.

‘He needs to know Ciri. She has barely said anything to him since we have arrived. I was just trying to get a rise you when I said she preferred Jaksier but seems I was right all along she does like that singing turd.’ The purple eyes mage pushed, resting her hand on his chest, nails scratching likely against his sensitive skin.

‘Fuck off Yennefer.’ Geralt sneered, flinching away towards the courtyard.

‘You have been ignoring me. I don’t get ignored Geralt; you know that.’ Yennefer snapped, trailing after him, an ugly sneer forming on her face as the Witcher dodge all of her grasps. ‘Geralt…please, we used to be good together.’

She knew she sound despite, but she was too far gone to care. It had been a long time since she felt rejected; her transformation made almost certain of it. She was after all sculpted by the best artist, so why was she being cast aside by Adva. She was no great beauty, passing pretty at the very most yet Geralt was in love with her, and no matter how she demined herself, he didn’t so much as falter. Hitching up her skirts, she trailed after him, grasping at his arm.

‘Geralt…Geralt please.’ Yennefer winced at her needy voice as forced herself in front of him.

Geralt growled down at the bronzed woman in from; the annoying mage had pushed herself in front of his path. Glaring at her, he felt a pang of guilt as she stared up at him desperately with big pleading eyes. He had understood her pain, but every time he felt the first blossoming of sympathy, he remembered Adva, bloodied and battered after being pushed through the floor and the barbed comments forced towards his timid mate.

‘We never were, you never cared enough; I just didn’t realise. Enough Yennefer. Enough. THIS stops now. GO!’ Geralt snarled lowly, before storming off down the path.

‘Great. It's your fault, you know.’ Ciri prodded ‘If you hadn’t manipulated and used him for your own selfish things, he wouldn’t have left and properly would never have stumbled across Adva in that backwater town.’ Ciri snapped.

‘Are you seriously blaming this on me.’ Yennefer yapped as she blinked away, angry tears.

‘Yes. You should be happy for them. Instead, you're making both their lives miserable.’

Ciri loved Yennefer; she would always be her mother, raising her from a scarred little princess into the strong Witcher she was now, soothed her through her trials, fought her corner when Geralt was being his gruff self and refusing to treat her like the adult she was becoming. However, now she felt like the parent of a petulant child, throwing a tantrum because someone had picked up a toy they were no longer bothered with.

‘Don’t I deserve happiness. I knew she would take everything from me, and I was right. First, she takes Geralt, then Triss and now you. The little bitch is up to something I can see it.’ Yennefer yelled.

‘She didn’t take us away. You pushed us. Adva would never take Geralt away; he would always be there for you, and so would she. That’s your problem; you can never see something good in someone. Someone Geralt who can worship without getting cast away. Adva is Geralt soulmate, someone who will love him in the way he needs, selflessly and unconditionally. Can you say you have ever done the same? Adva is a good person; you just have to look into her eyes and see that?’ Ciri pushed

Yennefer let out an unholy scratch as she conjured a bright yellow ball of fire and launched it into the air. Ciri watched silently as Yennefer blasted out a wave of energy knocking down two poor trees that stood innocent at the side before marching off into the forest.

‘Yen…’ Ciri started on after her, but something stopped her. Inhaling deeply, she caught the scent again; it was faint, so faint that it was almost hidden under all the others, almost. It was suspicious, not that the scent was faint or even that it mingled with the other to the point that is was almost undetectable but it what it smelt like. Like the sea, well like seaweed, that healthy smell of salty vegetation mixed with clean cotton. In passing, she might have brushed it off as Adva fragrance, but this was distinctly different; she had spent enough time with her mentors’ mate to know every note of her aroma. Narrowing her eyes, she gave one lingering look towards the path the raging mage had made through the wood before shaking her head and making her way off after the scent.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Yennefer growled as she sent a ball of fire across the tops of the trees. The smell of burning foliage pulled at her nose as she eyed the smouldering treetops, now all scorched in a perfect line, blacked and charred. A grin of satisfaction stretched other her face as she squared her shoulders and launched the biggest ball of fire she could at the largest tree closet to her which coincidentally looked the most like Adva head.

‘Such a pretty for a beautiful creature like yourself to be cast aside for such an unworthy thing as the Adva girl.’ A lone voice purred behind her.

Whirling around Yennefer was met by a man with a vivid green eye of a suave nobleman. Violet eyes rolled over him, with deep mistrust. No one, NO ONE came up to the mountain, the forest was too thick, impenetrable, filled with all sort of monsters and danger. Merchants and bandits stumbled up from time to time but never this far and never wearing something that fine. The man was dressed in the finery of a king, a rich quilted jacket in a mix of leather and silk. It sat tight against his chest, showing a toned and crafted body from hours of torturous training. He was tall and lean, learning cockily against the tree staring intensely at her.

‘And why would you care?’ Yennefer reeled back, hand posed and ready as she observed the man.

He let her take him in, unmoving from his positions on the tree as he spoke softly ‘I am what you might call a concerned member of society. I dislike jumped up usurpers.’ The man smiled, pushing himself off the tree and slowly, ever so slowly making his way to stand in front of her ‘I am here to propose a plan..’

‘And what makes you think I will help you with your plan.’ Yennefer snorted, edging herself to the corner of the clearing.

Yennefer did not like it. Not at all, the man was too clean-cut, to pristine. And while Geralt was not in her favourite list right now, she still did not want Kaer Morhen besieged by some arseholes, that would put Ciri in danger since she would rather die than leave. Yet, he stood in front of her arm out. Palm facing her, if he was some assassin or enemy he was a very poor one, he had let her have the advantage the second he made a move Yennefer could send out a deadly blast or teleport him to some unknown fair corner of the world, and that made him interesting and worthy of her attention.

‘My plan permanently gets Adva out of the picture.’

‘And how do you think you would do that? She is protected by two highly skilled Witchers, the Lady of Space and Time, a powerful mage and singing idiot.’

‘With your help, of course. What do you think?’ The man smiled widely, and he inched towards her.

Being a court mage for many years had taught Yennefer to remain impassive, the slight glimmer of emotion would reveal you are true indention and immediately set off a chain reaction of those who opposed your idea or intention. To say there wasn’t a burning desire to rid herself of that kitchen maid was putting it lightly however even before she became a mage she had learnt that if a man offered you something that you truly desired that it was always too good to be true. She did not like him at all; he gave out a claggy feeling, the sort of person who clung to you link a leech and didn’t let go till she had drained you of what he needed.

‘I think… I would go warn them so we can all kick you well-polished arse together’ Yennefer hissed as a purple light bubbled up from her tanned palms and gave off a humming glow.

‘Don’t disappoint me. I have spent so long appreciating you. We are much alike; we know what we like, and when we want it and we have both been cast aside by that wretch. I will kill Adva one way or another, but this way…this way is easier, cleaner and this way you get what you want.’ The man whispered, softly taking her hand and kissing it.

Lowering her attack, she watched as he once again retreated back before answering ‘And what is it that you want?’

‘I have the discretion to breathe life into that barren void between your legs and all I require in return is your help in getting rid of a pest, a blight on the face of the earth. The death of a creature, a deformed halfling who should never have been granted life. In exchange, you will be given the Witcher and a baby. All you have to is isolated and distract the little thing.’ The man said as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

‘If you can do what you say…., that is powerful magic. Why do you need my help? It’s not like she some skill warrior Mage.’ Yennefer quarried.

‘You underestimate her, you all do. You have no idea truly what she could be capable of, and if we continue to let her breath, she could find out. ‘The man purred, reaching out to touch her face in a soft caress. ‘I will make it look like an attack, and that you fiercely tried to save her, it will be clean a quick, just lure her to the edge of the forest on the northside.’

‘And how do you know that you’ll honour the agreement?’

Pushing himself back, the man pulled a small silver blade from his belt and drew it across his palm. The blood trickled down the pale silver skin, the droplet of blood where brighter than any ruby in almost look like poppy juice and it run down his hand and dripped drop by drop onto the forest floor but it had that smell of blood, of bitter copper mixed with the tangy scent of freshly forged iron.

‘I solemnly swear, that if you help me get rid of Adva, I will ensure your womb is restored to you, and the girls claim on Geralt will be void. I give this oath in honour, and if I divert from our deal, I shall be struck down.’

The man held out his bloodstain hand to hear the hum of the blood know gave out a near ear-deafening vibration as the blood thicken and turned sticky on his palm. Blood oaths where primitive magic but effective, if the oath promiser diverted from the agreement in any shape or form the magic would strike him down without mercy or thought. That is why people had stopped using it; they were too deadly, the magic took the promise very literally with often deadly consequences. Plus it left a hideous reminder to both parties in the shape of a bloodstained on the hand, a stain so deep it could never be removed, only when the oath was fulfilled was the stain washed away. A troubling thought cross Yennefer’s mind, several in fact but the most concerning thing was the deal, he made no mention of her making the same deal, to pledge herself to his cause. Instead, it was entirely on him; he asked no reassurance he was either very stupid, which she didn’t believe if he had slipped into Kaer Morhen without either of the Witchers noticing meaning he was at the very least he was intelligent enough to remain undetected. Which meant he was desperate, either running out of time or, willing to trust a stranger, to aid him in his quest for end Adva, believing her hatred for Adva would be enough to ensure loyalty.

Narrowing her eyes, she reached out her hand grimacing as she felt the stick liquid seep into her hand. ‘How do you propose to lure her away?’

‘With this’ the man smirked and pulled out an emerald scroll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry! I had this chapter all planned out then my summer completely went up in flames, my lovely summer of reading and writing is now cancelled. Updates might be patchy for now as my school is trying to get ready for reopening in September and honestly no one knows what is happening and everyone is panicking. I am also trying to find somewhere to live as if and when we go back, I can’t risk taking the virus back to my family who is very vulnerable with not much luck. So as you can imagine, everything is a bit unstable, but please be sure that I am always thinking about my next chapter and nothing make me happier that people want to read my ramblings.  
> Thank you to everyone who said congratulation. It was so lovely.  
> The next chapter is planned just need to find time to write it. Stay safe!


	24. Chapter 24

Adva was struggling. Despite Geralt obeying her pleas to give her space, things had got no better. The brief glimpses at him at dinner or in passing during the day made the storm inside her more violent. She was tetchy and irritable to the point of wanting to hurl people across the room for very little reason. Jaskier breathing too hard, Vesemir scratching to loudly, Triss asking if she was okay for the 50th time today or Ciri placing another plate of food in front of her. By nature, she very passive person, and the temperament change was concerning, the number of times she had found herself having to leave the room to stop herself from launching an attack on some innocent companion. The others were careful around her, constantly tiptoeing around her which in her opinion aggravated her more, there constant need to try and make things better or help her when all she wanted to do was curl up somewhere soft and think. Think about what she should do, go, or say to make any of this better. But she was never left alone for long enough to think without Jaskier, Triss or Ciri popping up and spoiling her solace. 

‘Come on, Adva, come play some Gwent.’ Triss smiled tenderly across at her.

The foursome of Triss, Jaskier, Ciri and Vesemir were all huddled around the end of banquet table with there cards dished out in front of them. Geralt and Yennefer nowhere to be seen. Geralt normally lurked somewhere in the shadows with longing looks while Yennefer appeared and disappeared as often as she felt like it but for the past few days neither had been present. Bile burnt a pit in her stomach as she thought about them, Geralt had grown tired of the rejection had sunk back into the waiting arms of the Mage which is the way it had to be but it still hurt so much. 

Shaking her head, she stood from her place by the fire, ‘No, I am fine. I just want to relax for a bit.’

‘If I didn’t know better I would say your pinning for something.’ The older Witcher sniped as he glared down at his hand.

‘Who asked you.’ Adva snapped, sending an icy glare across at the man.

‘Adva…’ Ciri frowned as she looked across the table at her companions, concern marring their faces all apart from Vesemir who retained his usual death glare.

‘Forget it; I am going for a walk.’ Adva bite out as she made her way through the double doors and onto the great stone steps and down towards the lake. 

The sky was blanketed with thick white clouds that shielded her from the last of the autumn sun. The wind was bitter but only enough to cause the slightest shiver as she made her way down the incline. The leaves had started to turn some time ago, but now only the evergreens held their vibrant greens, the rest where a stunning arrange of yellows, browns and reds, but now the leaves were shedding and the bare bark of the gnarled branches was the signal for the imminent arrival of winter and the upcoming snow.

‘Ahhhh if it isn’t the little mermaid. Off for a swim?’

The voice tinkled through the wind as smooth as velvet for a moment she thought she had imagined it, blue eyes scanned the landscape in front of her for the purple-eyed mage, but nothing. The rocky path was empty, and the thick, dense wall of trees either side bared no presence either. Narrowing her eyes, she moved further down the path and around the little bend, only for the path to be blocked by the slender mage.

‘Hello, little fish…’ The mage smiled tightly as they stared across at each other. 

‘Yennefer… just don’t, whatever you are going to do just don’t. I cannot deal with you right now.’ Adva snapped as she continued down the path towards the water.

Adva was telling the truth, she couldn’t deal with Yennefer right now not without a decent amount of bloodshed. Even just looking at the mage caused an insane amount of irritation, with her perfect hair and immaculate makeup. At least on this occasion, she was wearing something remotely suitable for the changing weather, a thick cotton dress and furs.

‘And why would I do something to you? Are you scared of me little one? No, I don’t think you are. What are you truly scared off? You know a powerful mage can tell a personal creed by simply looking someone in the eye.’ 

Yennefer watched the woman staring straight at her. A lesser being might be arrogant and cocky or fearful at an approaching mage, especial if said mage had thrown yours through the flooring of a house. Yet, Adva eyes betrayed no fear or hatred just a stormy blue sea. Even when she took a step forward, the girl did not so much as flinch, just staring with those dark eyes. Eyes which where windows to the soul and in which she could see straight into.

‘And what do you see.’ Adva retorted, folding her arms around herself as she waited.

‘I see your fear’ Yennefer cooed softly as she inched closer, her eyes sinking into Adva’s. ‘A fear that you don’t even know, something you hid deep down.’ 

‘And what is that Yennefer?’

‘What the fun in telling?’ The violet eyes twinkled as she came toe to toe with the girl and stared down till only a few inches of air separated them. The scent of lilac and gooseberry mixed with apples and the scene.

‘I also see…purpose and ohhh destiny. Not something that I would have to imagine or expected….. such an unwanted surprise… Tsk tsk tsk that is a pity.’ Yennefer muddled out as here eye unblinkingly stared into her.

‘Pity? What is a pity?’ Adva croaked out slamming her eyes shut.

‘I hate changing plan midway through but needs must when the devils at your doorstep…quite literally in this case.’ Yennefer smiled wide as she stepped back. 

Adva scowled as she looked at Yennefer. The smile was not a satisfied or happy one, she, of course, knew the different, she had spent most of her adult life in a whore house and new the difference between a purely happy smile and that of displeasure. It was the sort of smile the girl splayed on when they had to play along with the punter for the hard-earned coin with an ugly old man.

‘Whatever tactic this is Yennefer, I am not playing. Just leave me alone.’ Adva retorted as she stormed off. 

‘We can’t escape our nature or our destiny, soul mate or not. It's coming for you.’ Yennefer whispered before disappearing in a flourish of wind and dust.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The path wound around and came to stand in a little creek once you moved past the overground patches of bracken and nettles. Adva was too distracted with her thoughts to mind the thorns tugging at her clothes and the nettle stinging at her flesh as she followed the distant tinkle of water, the soft splashes of the jumping fish and busy otters. A swirl of rage billowed inside her, Yennefer set her on edge pushed her to purposely twist her mind and bring her to the brink of apprehension.

‘Arghhhh’ Adva pushed out a blast of water from the shallow and sent it shooting across the vast lake. Adva watched as the willow gave a creaking groan before it collapsed into the water, and the world went silent even the fish seemed to rush for the safety of the depth. A shuddering breath escaped her lips as she watched the leaves wave across the on the surface of the water, the light-catching them making them glisten in the sun. 

A snap and a stumble broke through the silence. Whirling around her eyes darted around the dense wall of wood, even without the greenery, there was little room to see the past cover. 

‘Who is there? Yennefer?...Geralt? Jaskier? Who is there?’ Adva called out but was only met by an eerily silence. ‘I mean it who is there….this isn’t funny.’ Adva shouted into the bush arms raised palms outward as a swirl of water slashed around in front of her. 

Directly in front of her, another footfall fell and with the branched began to rattle and shake. And slowly the figure emerged from the bush till a slightly dishevelled Earl Crispin stood in front of her and slightly out of breath.

‘Ahhhh Adva….it a really a jungle out there. That purpled eyes woman told me where you were’ the Earl smiled. ‘I do hope you're not going to hit me with that thing, are you?’ the man's dark eyes lingered over the water churning mid-air. 

‘No no of course not…’ Adva breathless mumbled and let her arms fall to her side ‘what are you doing here?’ 

‘Triss came to see me…to help with your situation. I knew you were a beauty but a Witcher’s Mate No wonder he cold-cocked me.’ He smiled as he stepped into the clearing dragging a heavy-looking bag.

Adva groaning lightly as her memory burnt with that night, the memories she wanted to forget but longed to have again. ‘Geralt…is a little overprotective. Sorry, he hit you.’ She gave him a sad smile.

‘Perfectly fine. Not your fault…. I understand thou …he isn’t about is he.’ Nervous eyes flickered around the glade.

‘Don’t worry, you are safe…he is back at the castle, I think. You didn’t answer the question. What are you doing here?’

‘This, I believe, is something that you have been looking for.’ The man smiled and proffered a shimmering scroll of parchment. ‘I brought it at an auction about ten years ago; it had been sitting at the bottom of some fishermen hunt. The seller thought it might be some sort of script of the whale, but to my trained eye, I think it more likely fertility or mating script. The whale image is often or not a mark of such a thing.’ Crispin beamed as he moved behind her peaking at the scroll over the woman’s shoulder.  
Adva shakily grasped the scroll in her trembling hands and unravelled the scroll, a hush gasp fulling from her lips, and her eyes flowed over the scripted, greedily taking in every letter of every word. The images where graphic and detailed showing every step and every position of the bonding ceremony. Heat pooled in the pit of her stomach her eyes lingered over the mermaid figure pursed over the man's form in the throes of ecstasy. 

‘Oh my….It is…Crispin it is…. Do you know what this means I can…’ A deep frown formed at the corners of her mouth as the froze in mid-speech. A tightness across her throat and the air stuck in her chest.

The scrolls dropped from her hand as the object around her tightened to the point her toe tips where the only just skimming the ground. The cord around her neck stung as it bite into the sensitive skin, causing her silent scream to erupt from her mouth.

‘Do you really think you would get away from me that easy, you halfling monstrosity? The soft snarl of Crispin's mouth as his hot breath glanced over her ear.

‘I…What….Crispin what are you doing?’ the words barely formed in a series of gasped out chokes.

‘I have been looking for you for the last twenty years. I thought you would be so much more. But its pathetic really all the hope for nothing. Your not even a proper mermaid. Can’t even defend yourself.’ Crispin scowled tightening his hold. 

Adva growled lightly as her finger scratched at the wire-like cord around her neck while her other hand reached outward toward the water flexing and waining as the water struggled up from the surface of the lake.

‘Your powers are weak. I can snuff them out like I would yearlings.’ Crisping screamed, and he tightened his grip of the bind around her neck, and helplessly she watched as the water slammed back into the lake as it became impossible still, like a sheet of glass. 

The hold was too much and too strong no matter how she moved; his hold remained unwavering. The material around her neck was slimy and hot burning. The black spot began to appear on her eyes as she was thrust towards unconsciousness.

‘Look what we have here.’ Yennefer purr pulled Adva from the edge of oblivion.

‘Yenne… help.’ the words were raw, and the taste of metallic copper bubbled up in her throat. 

‘Help? Her? Who do you think has been helping me. Once you are out of the way, she gets her witcher, and I get the bloodline clean from scum like you.’ He spat, as hot tears run down her purple face.

‘See that not how it is going to go down.’ Yennefer purred as she moved to stand in front of the struggling couple.

‘What? We have a deal.’ 

Adva felt the cord losen around her neck just ever so slight, and the small trickle of air escaped into her burning lungs, and the impending darkness seemed to fade in the distance.

‘Do you think I am stupid? A man who makes a blood deal is never to be trusted.’ Yennefer sneered.

‘What are you talking about the mage. My deal is binding.’ 

‘True you give me Geralt and a baby, but Geralt is no use without her. You think me fool? As soon as his pathetic mate dies, he will wither away before my eyes till he is nothing but a husk.’ 

Adva felt Crispin's hands stain against the rope and body tensed behind her.

‘You must have known that soulmate cannot be parted. So what was it make me watch him die while handing me a baby? Humph. But it has been interesting to see how your mind works. You call her a weak yearling…yet you’re the one strangling with the roots of Snarling Inferno. Which cause dehydration and paralysis, not the signs of a strong mermaid. But a very interesting method of subduing them.’ Yennefer sneered. ‘See…What was it, Crispin? You are the weak one, having to use a weed to subdue your prey, and I have not lived several lifetimes by aligning myself with the weak side. So let her go, or you will be very sorry.’ Yennefer’s eyes growled a metallic purple.

‘Never’ 

‘It's your choice. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ The mages smiled as she rose her hands and send out a shock wave of air, forcing them violently back.

Adva clawed at her neck the weed continue to contract her air was. Despite Crispin no longer choking her the bind her, the air refused to refill her desperate lungs. She had landed inches away from the water's edge while mere meters away blasts of purple and white erupted from the hands of Crispin and Yennefer.

‘Yennefer….’

‘Hang on little dolphin.’ The mage grunted as she pushed a swirl of fire towards the flaying man. 

Adva nails gouged and ripped at the burnt skin as the weed began to cook her already stinging flesh, blood oozed from every wound and thread by a thread the woody rope, while in front of her the two men duelled in a bluster of light. Gasping tightly, the air slowly began to return as a thread by a thread of the woody root broke. Yet, burning remained, and sweat began to drip down her body, and a violent tremor racked over her body.

‘For the Kingdom of Navacis and our true leader Zaire.’ Crispin roared as he appeared from nowhere, dagger held aloft. But a roaring spark shot out from his chest, causing the man to look down as the sparks began to ignite in small little explosions. Adva air deprived brain could not follow the actions as the towering hate-filled man ignited in a roaring blaze as he shrieked in pain. 

Cooly, Yennefer picked up the dropped dagger and gently began to cut through the tough weed that still clung to her neck. 

‘You tried….to kill…me’ Adva wheezed out as the air fully returned to her lucks.

‘Oh, grow up. If I truly wanted you dead, you would be dead. AS much as I despise you…I think you can help me. You give a little help; you get a little help. Me with my problem…you with Geralt…’ Yennefer silky tones wafted through the air.

Adva was very vaguely aware of the mage's eyes staring down into hers. Before the familiar feel of the knife delicately cutting away at the last remains of the roots that encircled her neck. Adva felt…she felt wild Powerful. It was hard to breathe; she still felt like she was being choked, her lung burnt. And a desire for water consumed her. 

‘Hold still!... And breath….Breath Adva!’

A pained roared filled the air with one mightly tug the last of the Snapping Inferno’s roots where pulled from her neck. And a taloned hand lashed out against the mage. Yennefer missed the blow by a hair's breadth, and she sprawled backwards in across the dirt as she watched wide-eyed as black sword-like claws extended from Adva figure tips. The girl whimpered and panted, her whole body withering in some unforeseen pain. 

‘I can….no brea….’ Adva croaked. 

‘Adva the weed is gone. Stop..... now your gonna hurt yourself.’ Yennefer blicked worriedly trying and failing and holding the failing girl still.

Yennefer’s body stifled a gasp for air as the girl lookup. No longer were the eyes of bright pool blue but a sea of black. A terrible piercing shriek vibrated against the shore as a wave of energy blasted out at Yennefer, sending her hurtling into the rocks that lined the shore.

Blood poor from her as she crawling forward, plunged her self into the lake. Water rolled over her as bubbles shot across her skin as she plunges into the water. A blue glow surrounds her, and the water shone brightly. In the depth of the water, the burn was consuming; a heat ripped across Adva’s ribs and down her legs. Clawing at her body, the black claws ripped and pulled at the confining clothes as she sunk deeper in the depths.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
Purple eyes blinked themselves awake as she pair of rough hands violently shook her, and for the first time in her entire existence, she was glad to come face to face with Vesemir. 

‘She is alive.’ His gruff voice grated against her ringing head that pounded violently.

‘Oh, goody we can all breath a sigh of relief.’ Jaskier snarked as he inched closer to the younger Witcher who crouched eyes franticly danced around the area.

‘Yennefer…what have you don?’ Ciri snapped softly as she picked up the remains of the Snarling Inferno. 

‘Done? Done? I saved that little fish life. If It wasn’t for me that assassin would have strangled the life out of her? You should be thankful I set a trap for that…Crispin.’Yennefer puffed out in pains as Vesemire yanked her up.

‘You used her as bate?’ Geralt roared appearing out from the clearing bearing down at her.

‘Only to see what we were up against.’ Yennefer pouted timidly at the raging Witcher all too aware of the glinting silver sword in his hand.

‘Where is she’ Geralt voice was low and dangerous.

‘Who do you think did this damage….she was alive when I passed out. Snarling and whipping like some demented creature.’ Yennefer spat as she half-collapsed herself on the remains of the bolder that once sat on the bank of the lake  
‘That is her blood soaking into the floor. YOU MURDEROUS…!’ Geralt roared, raising his sword arm above his head to bring down his glinted weapon against the mage.

Jaskier flinched at sight before him. Despite his hatred for Yennefer, the wrath of Geralt was not something he would wish upon his worst enemy. He would kill her for this. Jaskier was sure of this. As soon as he hurried that unholy shriek, and glowing light, he knew it, he knew Yennefer had committed what they had all been waiting for all be it with the aid of another party. The bard just didn’t see it being Crispin. Jaskier eyes settled on a large rusty coloured stain sunk into the brown dirt; it was such an amount that no man or women mermaid or not would survive that. The body carried off by Crispin if he had survived the attack or dragged away by downers. Tears began to build up in his eyes as he turned away from the blood-stained bank towards the rippling water. Adva was gone, destroyed, nothing left but scraps of clothing torn from her body and the fading blood. A flicker of red caught the minstrels attention. 

Terror surged within the dark as the flicker of red disappeared below the water, and a shadow glided toward the shallows. ‘ Uh, Geralt….Geralt!’

Geralt let go of the mage's throat as he turned to the bard, his eyes danced across the waters lines and at the shadow drifting toward him. The only thing the keen witchers eyes could make out was the crimson red that shimmered underneath the water as it drew closer. Geralt breath hitched in his throat as gliding out of through the water, Adva bobbed against the surface serenely, hair sticking against her wet skin, the ends dancing in the water as she trod the murky water. The briefest glimmer of a brilliantly red tail that swished benefit, keeping her afloat.

‘Adva? Oh my god….she had a tail, she has a tail.’ Jaskier’s shill cry carried across the lake.

‘Well, I think we can safely say she is most defiantly a mermaid.’ Vesemir sighed as he eyed his golden-eyed protégé wading thought the water before diving head further into the water as his powerful arms cut through the water, stopping just in front of her, so close he could feel the force of her tail moving back and forth.

‘Adva…it me Geralt.’ Geralt soothed softly as he reached out and ever so gentle traced the side of her face. 

Her skin looked almost white, like glowing silver, her eyes a vivid metallic blue, she looked the same but different, her face was almost ethereal, features sharper, eyes larger, hair a meadow green. So different but so familiar. Tilting her head, she pressed her face into his warm hand, purring softly.

Geralt heart thudded violently in his chest as he watched raptured as his mate who bobbed against the surface of the water on a beautiful tail. It had been the first time she had allowed him to touch her since that night, that amazing night. The warmth from her skin was enough to send him into a heady frenzy; Geralt smiled as the tail wrapped around his body, pulling him closer. His whole body sung in relief, that itch that made him raw was gone, but that feverish need was bad, that need to bond and feel her skin against his to become one. Cooing down, he felt her tail swish out the water spraying him with a fine mist of water.

‘Geralt!’ 

Adva’s snapped open, the metallic blue eyes gone, replaced with pure black pupils. 

‘No one move!’ Vesemir demanded.

‘Seriously she has just got a lethal tale.’ Yennefer cried, leaping into the shallow water.

‘Don’t…’ Vesemir warned, but it was too late. 

Immediately the tale shift from its magnificent ruby tale shifted to a deathly black, and thin barbs like teeth descend down from her mouth with a sickening slice through the air as she glowered across at the onlookers before, to the horror of the group, Adva lurched forward dropped down into the water, pulling the Witcher under with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all safe and well   
> I am so sorry! I really wanted to update but it has been non-stop at work and doesn't look like it will get any better  
> There will be smut in the next chapter.  
> Thank you, everyone, who left a review and keeps leaving support, I really appreciate it, it has really pushed me to keep writing. Please let me know what you think.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!!!!!!!!!! 
> 
> Sorry this update has taken so long. Work has been really full-on; my department have either been of isolating or off sick, so it's been really hard to write and juggle everything. Thank you for being so patient, so please enjoy this early Christmas present.

The sensation of being dragged through the water was not one that Geralt would ever get used to, that water smothered him and made it almost impossible to move with any power, but this was the first time he had never wanted to break away and sink his sword into the beast chest. Not with his mate clinging tightly to him. Adva arms were tightly clamped around him, her talons firmly pressed against his skin, not piercing but protecting a warning to those around her. Despite his mutated eyes and his body being pressed against her, he could only make out the pale silver of her skin and the curtain of hair that obscured her from his eyes. The only thing that he could make out was the tail that propelled them through the water. The red from the moment before was now a black that melded into the darkness of the water. Occasionally the sunlight that penetrated the depths shimmered across her tail, making it glisten menacingly. 

Just as his lungs began to burn, he felt a flood of oxygen invade his body, and he let an involuntary gulp of air as he was heaved up on a solid slab of stone. Grunting lowly, the Witcher heaved himself up onto his elbows on his back as he blinked the water out of his eyes. The cave was dark, only illuminated by the light pass through the surface of the water. It was just enough light, but even in the darkest places, her beauty would shine out as she gentle bobbed in the water. 

'Adva….'

Gliding through the water and pulling herself up hard against her 'You are mine.'

'Adva…'

'You are mine….not hers or theirs but mine.' Adva purred angrily as she effortlessly pulled herself onto the bank of stone, tail flourishing behind her before vanishing and two pale legs appeared from somewhere as she crawled her way across to him, boldly saddling the bewildered Witcher.

'Wha…Adva stop…..What are you doing…stop.' Geralt spluttered his rough hands awkwardly posed on the near-naked woman as she pushed forcefully against him.   
Golden eyes roamed the body of his mate. The rags that clung to her body obscured the most intimate parts, but it was far more of her body then he had ever seen—all pale and plump, saddling his waist.   
'You. Are. Mine.' A growl vibrated against his mouth as she claimed his mouth with a searing kiss. 

A moan rumbled through his chest as weeks of longing and suffering ending in that one soft kiss. Awkward hands found a home on the small of her back and tangled in her wet locks. Her own small hands rested against the sides of his face as their lips met in a passionate embrace. 

Between his legs, a painful reminder of her need began to stir. The need had built up since 'that' day his touch did nothing in neither satisfied the ache nor filling the want to hold her against him as they lost themselves in each other. The feel Adva's body against him after so long was enough, but her lips on his and the feel of her core on his waist was more then flesh and body could stand. 

'Adva' the plea fell deafly in the air as she promptly reclaimed his lips. Her eyes where dark and stormy, not a trace of those soft metallic blue eyes that he adored remained. 'No Adva stop.' The Witcher growled, as his hands found their way to her waist, freeing him from her intoxicating lips' Wait…we. I can't… you'll regret this….please.' A low moan escaped him as if in pain.

'NO. Your mine. Only mine. You aren't hers. You are my mate, my love. I can't be without you anymore.' 

Geralt's golden eyes found that exposed blue in her eyes, and the gentleness of the features that exposed that vulnerability look down at him, pleading with him. The strength that struggled within him buckled under the weight of that look, all that want, and desire surged within him as she sat up to capture her lips in a tender release of his feelings. 

Moans and groans echoed against the walls of the cave spurring the two lovers. With each moan spurred Geralt on and his aching cock twitched painfully between his leg, which Adva seemed to sense in a surge of want spurring her to clumsily roll her hips against him. Frantic hands pulled at his shirt, sliding it his shoulders before letting her hands explore the broad explains of his chest. Geralt himself let relevant to his need to touch her and let his hands slide down her sides and settle teasingly on her hips fingering patterns into the tender flesh. With another roll of her hip, her core settled against the lace of his breeches coyly grinding against his cock.

A breathy rumble roared from his chest as even through the leather of his pants; he could feel her wetness. Pulling back a predatory smile etched over her hands as she frantically pulled at his tie before exposing his long hard length and sat heavily against his stomach. 

'Adva….' The plea turns to a hiss as she seated herself on top of the warm cock, her sleek pussy tentatively ground against him.

A primitive growl forced its way from his chest and roared savagely into the air. It felt like pure heaven before it had been a passion-driven dry hump through their clothes and that felt like nothing he had experienced, this was something wholly different, their bare skin touching in the most intimate area and he had no power to stop himself. He knew she would hate him for taking advantage of her in this state, whatever it was, but he could not bring himself to care, it this moment she was his, and he was her and nothing in the world was going to stop them at this moment. He was hungry for her touch, deprived and wanting and as much as he knew he should stop her, he was powerless. 

Hands-on hips, Geralt rolled his hip up to meet her thrusts, causing her head to full back in a loud moan. 'Oh, Geralt.' 

With a growl he did it, again and again, his eyes never leaving the picture of ecstasy that moved above him. Pushing him down, Geralt watch in awe as she settles herself down against him and with a frenzied need began to move at a frantic pace, Geralt hands pushing and pulling her hips with every thrust there lips meeting in a hungry lips.

'Geralt….gods….so good.' She cried out as he pulled her head back to let out a soft cry of pleasure.

'Come for me….Come….for me.' Geralt grunted out through clenched teeth as his lips found her once against.

In a sudden act of defiance, Adva pulled away; hips stilled as she sat up and readjusted herself to rest her hands on his chest before feverishly grinding her pussy against his cock. Her wet pussy rolling over his head, again and again, hitting her clit with every movement causing a shiver to run over her body with her thrust. The feeling was pure torture, it felt like hours since they had started the sounds of their cries filling the cave and Geralt felt the last of his resistance fail him, and he collapsed against the cold stone floor and shifting his legs jolted her forwards and sprawl across his chest. Letting him wrap his arms around her and work his hips hurriedly against her hers. The sweat sticky their bodies together. 

'Geralt….Gertalt….arghhhh…Mmmmm' the power of her orgasm ripped through her, and the feel of her wetness surging onto his cock sent the Witcher over the edge in a howling mess of grunts and growls as thick ropes of white cum painted his chest.

Geralt's gazed up at her in awe; her wet hair clung to her face as she rode out her orgasm as gentle tremors still shook against her body. She looked like a goddess, water dripping from her hair and trailing down her body before sliding out of view behind the tatter rags that were once her clothes. Her pale skin painted with a dark pink afterglow. As long as he lives, he would never meet anyone as perfect as she was now. The Witcher watched as she blinked away the lust-filled daze that clouded her mind, and she smiled at him. That same loving smile he showed him that day he walked her into town, sweet and warm but her eyes, her eyes were now the metallic blue that he had come to know so well. Panic swelled within him as he felt her body tense up, and the look of embarrassment take over her features. The stunning afterglow turned into a violent blush that spread across her body.

'I….I don't know…How…I am sorry.' A stammered string of words fell from her lips, and she scurried off the Witcher. 'I don't know what came over me.' A whisper chocked out a whisper as the mermaid's eyes fell on the mess that was currently splattered across his chest. 'Ohhhh' a new wave of embarrassment washed over her skin as she curled into herself, hiding her face from his gaze behind a curtain of wet locks.

The white-haired Witcher wanted to say something, anything, an apology, an excuse, reassurance, a plea of devotion but being a man of very few words his speech failed him, instead she received his usually grunting hum.

'hmmmmmmm'

Never letting his eyes fall from her form, Geralt pulled his soaked shirt from the floor and tenderly wrapped it round the shaking woman, their passions no longer keeping her warm from the Cave harsh conditions.

'Come on the little flower.'

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
It was not a pleasant walk back she dressed in what remained of her clothes. At some point on their journey back, Geralt had found a horse blanket that he wrapped her shivering form. Geralt was bare-chested, leather trousers hanging loose on his hips. The harshness of the weather did not seem to faze him as he steered her through the grove of trees and up the steep stone steps, in his typical moody, pensive state. It was times like these that she wishes she could understand what went through the Witchers head, did he regret the cave, was he worried about the attack her sudden acquisition of a tail or her throwing herself on top of him and taking advantage of him. A warm feeling spread over her body as she recalled the furious frenzy of the cave. The feeling was different from their first time; this was passionate and animalistic. And this time she was on top and turned Geralt into a grunting mess. That made her feel powerful, and bringing her soulmate to the edge was something that she wanted to do again and again.

'ADVA! Thank god' Jaskiers shrill voice carried across the hall. 

Adva couldn't help but wince at the sound. It was too loud. As much as he loves the bard she didn't want to deal with him she just wanted to stay with Geralt and forget about the mermaids, mages and all the stupid messed up stuff that had been her life for the last few months. 

'Your concern for my welfare is touching, Jaskier.' Geralt grunted out, and he pushed Adva further into the warmth of the castle.

'Are you hurt? How do you feel, should I get Triss? Jaskier rumbled off much to the annoyance of both mates.

'I am fine. Just want a bath and to get warm' Adva smiled at her friend's overenthusiasm.

'Come on, Adva we will run you a bath in the kitchen.' Jaskier cooed adoringly as he wrapped her in his arms, pulling her towards the kitchen.

'You are not taking her anywhere.' Geralt growled through bare teeth.

'Geralt…enough with the possessive caveman thing you have going on. You have more important things to attend to in the library.' Triss butted in appearing from behind the library doors. Her face looked haggard and worn, even in the brief while since she had last seen her. There was a look that past between the mage and the white-haired Witcher. Adva noticed the tension; it was clear to see something, something important. 'both of you.' 

Adva frowned at them, more than anything she wanted was to take Jaskier up on the bath, but despite her escapee with Geralt, her attack was at the forefront of her mind. The last six months of her life had been overwhelming, forcible removed from Brightwater, dragged halfway across the land, attacked by jealous mages and mermaid minions all the while dealing with the fact she was an actual Mermaid. A literal mermaid- with a god damn tail. And even if that was not enough, she was a mate to a handsome Witcher. That Witcher being Geralt of fucking Rivera, the most famous and converted of all the Witchers. Staring up at the hulking form of her mate, nostrils flared, and fists clenched as he scented the air and darkness consumed his golden eyes.

'Go with Jaskier.' Geralt grunted as he pushed forward past Triss and into the library.

A still of annoyance surges within as she brushed off Jaskier's hands and followed the Witcher.

'Hello Geralt, I would say I am pleased to see you, but in my current mood. I am really not.'

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cersei sat at the head of the table sipping tea from a delicate china cup, the scent of lemon and ginger waffled through the air paired with the sweet scent of Jam and scones piled high on a silver platter. Vesemir all the while staring daggers at her from the other side of the table from behind a flagon on bitter smelling ale. She looked as elegant as ever, dressed in a vibrant green dress and looked almost out of place in the grim greyness of the library. She seemed to be unconcerned about the raging tempers that bubbled around her, instead of focusing on the tea in front of her.

'You!' Geralt yelled, accusing as he marched toward the woman, chest heaving as a growl resonated against him. 

'Yes, Geralt, me. I think anyone with eyes can see who it is. Don't be some overdramatic.' Cersei snapped as she settled down the teacup on the armrest to look at Geralt with some disdain. 'I leave you to take care of YOUR MATE and look at her; she is practically naked covered in that filthy blanket, covered in cuts. Call yourself a mate, letting her be attacked by a Merperson. I don't call that looking after her.' Cersei quipped, a perfectly plucked eyebrow arching over the brim of her teacup.

'You are hardly one to talk. How could you not tell Adva what she was.' Triss growled out, marking her was to stand shoulder to shoulder with Geralt.

'Adva had to be completely ignorant of her heritage. Advanna was placed in my care for her own safety. It was a precautionary measure needed to protect her from the people who want to bring about her demise. If you haven't noticed Adva here isn't a full mermaid but the first hybrid to be born in the Great Sea. As you can imagine, Queen Azalea was keen to keep her daughter safe knowing one day that she would be strong enough to return and rule, but her mothers' side with her mate.' Cersei retorted, putting down her teacup and standing, carefully smoothing out any wrinkles from her dress as stood.  
Adva clutched the blanket closer to her as she glared across at her former guardian. Her tone was so cold and prim it made her fists itch with the want to connect with the blondes face. It was her tone and manner that made her feel an incensed amount of rage. A small part of her felt ashamed of the hatred of her former guardian, but the rest of her just felt angry, angry at her lies and deceit.

'Well, Geralt hasn't bonded with her, yet so you can piss off' Triss gritted out tensely, advancing on the older mage, who remained unbudging from her place.

'Wait, did you just say her mother is Queen Azalea? Her mother is an actual queen?.... That is gonna make a great song.' Jaskier whispered mostly to himself but caused a wave of eyes rolls from around the room.

'Fortunately, with the mess that Geralt has been making of all of this. I come with a solution-' Cersei smiled tightly and from thin air appeared a turquoise vial. In the shape of a heart. Not the symbol but an exact replica of a human heart with all its veins and arteries in a delicate silver shining against the green of the glass.

'It a potion that will disconnect the link between you. All you need do is add a drop of your blood to the potion, and I will give it to Adva to drink and then I will take her to her mother who is very…anxious for her return.' Cersi stated calmly and tossed a fine glass vial to the Witcher.

An enraged roar erupted from Geralt chest as he bared down at the mage.

'That is suicide; breaking the bond would kill Geralt. For one person to sever the link, the other slowly becomes and shell and dies of heartbreak.' Triss gasped.

'Adva is stronger than anticipated. We didn't think that would be able to transform, but now it's clear she is much more powerful than we thought. She may even outpower her mother with training. Its time Adva takes her place right beside her mother.' Cersei soothed, proffering the vessel to the snarling Witcher. 'Geralt you are a good man, but you clearly cannot look after her properly. It clear. You have lived a long life already. This spell would only shorten your life to that of a mortal man. Look at her….. it's for the best.'

Geralt gazed over at his mate, standing against the door, shivering. She looked so small and vulnerable, looking up at him with pleading eyes. It was true; he could not look after her; she was covered in dirt and cuts. He almost lost her to Yennefer hair-brained scheme and that murdering mermaid. He loved her. More than loved her, he adored her. Every fibre of his body needed her more than oxygen more than anything. He would wade into battle with the foulest creatures and endure the severest hardships just to get a glimpse of his smile. She was so pure. Their brief escapades would be forever engraved on his mind; every touch burnt onto his skin that would comfort in the darkest days to come. Slowly he let his hand clamp over the sharp edge of the top, red liquid dipping into the container.   
Cersei waited patiently as it filled slowly, the burgundy substance mixing with the other liquid till finally, a soft hum emerged from the small object, and the blonde extends her hand towards her former ward. 'All you need to do little one is to drink this in one, it won't taste nice, but it will sever the connection with Geralt. You won't feel a thing, neither will Geralt.' The soft voice the only sound in the library. 

Adva let her gaze focus on the little bottle with all its little ornate decoration, she has never seen an actual heart but is how she would imagine it would look. If she had been given the bottle, she wondered if she would have taken it, swigged it without a second thought, but know the sight of the thing made her feel sick. Without moving, her eyes scanned the rest of the room, all eyes fell upon her, apart from the only pair that mattered. Geralt's back was to her, shoulders slumped, staring straight ahead out of the window into nothingness. Maybe at the start of this, she wouldn't have cared, hell a week ago she probably would have but now, now was different.

'Get out. Now' Adva growled.

'Adva….' Cersei gave a sad smile, but that infuriated her all the more.

'Don't you dare Adva me…you lied to me my whole life? I am not drinking it, and I am not coming with you…I am going to stay here with Geralt. 

'You don't need to stay here, Geralt gave his blood to the potion, he has given you the freedom to come home. To where people love you.' Cersei's hand stretched out against offering the bottle.  
Snorting in disgust Adva's hand flew out violently, knocking the vessel into the floor with a soft clatter the brown contents seeping into a small puddle onto the floor. 'Geralt loves me…I think, or at least he has never lied to.' Adva hissed. 'You and this so-called mother kept me from my family, my people and placed me with Tradi and in a Brothel. Did you really think that was the best place for a child, do you know how should achingly lonely I was? You left me to figure all this out myself.'

'I did that to protect you…' Cersei tried.

'I don't care. I have made my decision. I am not alone anymore; I have Geralt. I thank you for everything you tried to do for me, but I don't need you. And I certainly don't want anything to do with the Queen of the Mermaids. I am taking charge of my life; I am choosing Geralt. We are going to figure out the whole mate thing, so help me for good or bad it will work. Now I am telling you one last time- leave before I make you.' Adva snapped, and to make her point all the poignant she slammed the heel of her foot down onto the bottle, the glass cracking in a soft, sharp snap, even with the glass slice through her foot she refused to back down.

'Just because you have grown a tail girlie do not for a second think you can talk to me like that….you are coming home with me. You need to be with your family.' Cersei bit out.

'I am with my family.' Adva gritted out.

Cersei narrowed her eyes at the scowling woman.

A surge of wind began to bellow outside and batter against the window, golden hand raised in a tense claw, fingers fidgeting in spasms of energy. Geralt was first to react, barrelling towards the blonde mage only to be bounced away and sprawled against the table and deafening clatter sounded as the contents of the tabled flew across the floor. The next was Vesemir, who got further than Geralt, almost grazing her hair before being sent spiralling into the air knocking into the Triss and Jaskier. 

'Enough.' Adva growled, dropping the blanket from around her shoulder and throwing her hands forwards, twisting her hand out crippling her blonde women in front of her, contorting the figure into paralysis figure of fear, gasping and wheezing. 

'I don't ever want to see you again. I want you to leave us alone, and I never want to hear from my mother. EVER. Triss!' 

A groan echoed through the room as Triss pushed Jaskier off her with an almighty push. Scurrying to her feet and summered a shimmering white portal and grabbing the mage by her long blonde hair chucked her through the portal with a triumphant smirk. 

A huff of relief fell from her lips as she let her hand fall to her hips, only for her to notice she was only wearing thin strips of fabric. A deep blush covered her body, and her arms wrapped around herself to cover what was left of her modestly.

'Adva…. Who knew what you were hiding such a voluptuous figure?' Jaskier beamed. 'Would make a rather risqué ballad…. I think I could even work in the pretty but psycho mage.' Jaskier jumped up as if he had been sprawled across Vesemir and began to search the wreckage of room quill and parchment.

A primitive growl erupted Geralt as he took Adva in his arms, scooping her up and carrying her out of the room slamming the door behind him.

'Oh, thank god, I don't think I could have taken any more moping' Vesemir gruffly grunted 'Quickly pass me the ale, I don't want to be sober when that bed start squeaking.'

So????? What do you think? Hopefully, this chapter makes up for my absence. Please let me know what you think.


	26. Chapter 26

In all honestly, if someone told her that she would willingly allow Geralt to carry her off, she would have laughed at them. Adva told herself that if any man ever tried to carry her off, she would kick and scream till she escaped their clutches. The idea of having someone carrying her made her feel pathetic and vulnerable; she didn’t need anyone to do that until now. The inside of the castle was only fractionally warmer than the outside, with the unfortunate bonus that the thick stones that protected them from the biting wind seem to store the icy cold. Adva was sure back when there were enough Witchers to inhabit Kaer Morhen it was warm and toasty, with the raging fire ablaze throughout the fort. Now, however, it was freezing and barren. Her feet were already numb from the walk to the stronghold from the lake in what could barely be called a stitch of clothing. Stepping on the glass vial also hadn’t been the best idea, she was certain half of the blasted container was embedded in her foot, she could feel a steady stream of blood flow from foot and the tail tale sounds of the delicate droplets splattering against the stone. Even without her injuries, she couldn’t see herself being capable of finding her way back to her room.

But she wasn’t going to her room, she knew the second he stomped up the stairs that wasn’t the way to her chambers, but she couldn’t bring herself to care if he brought her to his room at least it meant he would stay with her. After the sour note that Cersi and Yennefer left on, she feared what would happen to her and him if they felt so inclined to return. And the thought of being more than an arms reach away from him filled her with dread. But the dread faded as he carried her up a winding staircase towards the very top of the forts highest tower.

Without dropping her, he kicked open the heavy wooden door with a bang and softly depositing her on the bed. The room was not what she expected; it was filled with several pieces of fine furniture, beautifully decorated rugs and tapestries. In the centre, opposite a grand stone fireplace, a large mahogany four-poster bed stood boldly, draped in rich green silk. It was a gorgeous room, fit for a king but had been left in a state, books and papers littered the floor and food left to go stale since his self banishment to the lake house. Her nose wrinkled as the smell of spoiling fruits and overripe cheese as the Witcher appeared in front of her with a jar of salve and a thick blanket that he dropped over her to protect her modestly while he knelt on the floor and examine her bloody foot. The sound of running water softly filling the background.

‘Sorry about the room. I wasn’t expecting…’ The golden eyes glanced up at her before quickly looked back at her injured foot.

Not trusting herself to speak, she continued to gaze upon the Witcher and felt a pang of guilt tore through her as she looked at his warn face, dark circled strain underneath his golden eyes, which seemed dimmer somehow. Golden skin seemed to have faded too, and even the bronzed hue was not enough to hide the sickly pallor that marred his skin. She had done that, her inability to see through Yennefer’s interference and her stubbornness has caused the prolonged suffering of not just her but him. Yet here he was tending to her so carefully in made her want to cry, she could scarcely feel the sting as he pulled the sliver of glass from her foot and smoothed in the salve, causing a weak giggle to erupt from her.

‘Someone is ticklish’ Geralt chuckled lowly as he raised to his feet and sent her a half-smile, it was a small one but a smile nevertheless, more then he had done in the past month at least. ‘Come on a little flower.’ Geralt purred and wrapped tightly in the blanket, and he strode over to a door half-hidden behind the chest of draws. Inside a cloud of steam warmed against her skin, blinking her way past the mist, she was in a grand bathing room. The room was large, decorated with a folded ornate dressing screen edged in gold and glisten wood that stood out against the white porcelain of the washing bowl and pitcher. The hulking Witcher settled her down on the edge of marble stone trough that dominated the middle of the room. Peering down, she watched the oil swirl around in the depth of water and filled the room with a heady fragrance of citrus and blossom.

‘You can em warm yourself in the tub. Towels are on the side.’ Geralt spoke through the thick mist of the heat of the room; she could see his gaze fascinated with the corner of the dresser screen. ‘I’ll be…I’ll be er next door if you need me.’ Geralt mumbled as he slowly retreated towards the door.

Adva couldn’t help but smile as she watched the big bad Witcher scurry from the room. But even after the door was firmly shut, she stared pensively, before, with a sigh, she shredded the last remains of her clothes and submerging herself in water.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Geralt did not like uncertainly; he was a creature of action by his very nature, hesitation for a Witcher meant a very short life and a grizzly end. Now he wasn’t sure of anything, and that ambiguity was gnawing at him. From the moment he heard the bottle creak underfoot his heart soared like an eagle in flight over the Witchers trail, even more so when he watched his little goddess order Triss to throw the blonde mage through a portal. He was certain then she has made her choice but now, now in his room he wasn’t so sure.

He busied himself, washing in the wooden tub that has been placed in front of the fire seven winters ago during the great freeze. The circular tub was luxurious enough to satisfy him and filling the tube in the bathing room seemed more effort, then it was worth it. His wash was quick, removing any mud and leaves from his body and hair. Before shrugging a robe gifted from Duchess of Toussaint on his last excursion, it was a little flamboyant for his taste, but it covered himself and let him attend to his business with some modesty. He cleared the debris of the weeks prior and crafted a large fire to warm up the room. The sheets were clean enough, and he did not care to change them; he had other things of more importance to worry about, like Cersi and his mates mother.

They would be a problem which would need careful consideration and planning, but thankfully Kaer Morhen was the most impregnable fortress. They were landlocked, so the fear of a Merpeople army was not at the forefront of the list. Cersi was devious, and a threat, but the castle could be mage-proofed. But not to be forgotten was the threat from Adva unknown banished brother, he has already sent one assassin, he could send another or far worse. A weary hand rubbed over his face; he would keep her safe no matter what.

‘Hi.’

Turning around Geralt couldn’t stop a primitive growl from pushing its self through his chest and out through his mouth. There she was wrapped in a towel, smiling at him, all pink and fresh. The orange blossoms and bergamot oil lingered on her skin, but the scent of apple and salt overpowered them and sent his heart racing. She had rejected her chance to escape him and was here, with him, near-naked.

‘You better get dressed. I will….’ He forced out in a gruff low tone.

‘Stay’ a voice that sounded very similar to her own demanded the Witcher. He should go, they had a lot to discuss yet the mere thought of their parting cause her a great deal of pain.

‘Don’t….Don’t….say it if you don’t mean it I can't….’ Geralt voice wavered as it cut from the tension that churned in the air between him.

Reaching out she clutched his hand it hers, there was no warmth, his skin still suffering from trudging back to the stronghold in nothing but his breeches. Staring up at his piercing eyes, she cradled his large hand between her smaller one and towards her chest.

‘I… don’t understand what might happen, but I know we are stronger together. I…. I want to face this together. Properly. I want to BE with you.’ Adva forced herself to look up at him, to staring into the whirling mass of his golden eyes.

Geralt stared at his mate, his eyes burning into her skin, looking for a sign, any sign. It was unnerving to wait under the heavy gaze of her blues eyes. A small smile curved across her pouting lips and shy eyes looked up at him. His lovely mate brought her lips to his hand and kissed them. It was soft and tender; the heat from her lips surged through him and set off a raging fire within him. All the want he felt for her, the touched starvation, the neediness. A rumbling growl vibrated through the room, setting a trail of goosebumps across the paleness of her skin and a soft blush to creep up and rest on her cheeks. The last grasps on control slipped, and he surged forward, a scooped her into his aching arms, one hand under her knees and the other supporting her back as he brought into a searing kiss.

Adva found herself being lowered down into the middle of the bed, the hulking frame of her mate hovering over her, his lips moving against hers in a passionate embrace. 

The anticipation and desire washed across Adva’s body as Geralt rested himself between her open legs, legs she parted widely to accommodate the Witchers thick body. Tentatively, she moved her hands across his golden skin. Heaving an eager breath, she licked her lips and again reached for her mate, her love. She was hungry for him in a way she'd never felt before, and she had to have him close, nestles between her thighs.

Geralt pulled back, and his features blossomed into a devilish smile. Delight and devotion were coursing through his body; their teeth clacked slightly at the sudden force of their kiss but neither relented. Adva opened her mouth for him, and he took advantage of her submission by thrusting his tongue into her willing mouth. Her kiss lacked his skill, but it was full of love and want. Reaching up, she tangled her hand in his ashen locks, and the others gripped his bicep relishing the quivering muscle underneath her touch. Not to be outdone it seemed, Geralt grabbed her again under her thighs and hoisted her up so she could wrap her legs back around his waist as he continued to attention down her neck and finally to suck gentle on her collarbone, causing the most indecent moan to mew from her, which seemed to spur the Witcher on as he nipped at her neck. The feel of his teeth sliding across her neck was enough to cause her whole body to tense, tightening her thighs hold against the Witchers hips, dragging their cores against each other.

With a grunt, Geralt pulled back to rest his forehead against her, his body almost trembling above hers. Panting, she was confused. Her brows furrowed, and her lips pouted. She watched as his eyes screwed shut and his brow pucked in his usual pensive look.

"Adva," his throaty voice snapped her back to herself, "You …..you have to tell me now if you aren’t ready….I don’t think I will be able to stop this if we go any further. I…want you too badly.’Geralt voice wavered, almost breaking as he spoke.   
Her heart soared and broke at the same time. If she hadn’t have been so stubborn, she might have already been claimed, and the suffering they both had to endure wouldn’t have been. Yet, after the pain she had caused him, he was, as always, being so careful with her. Smiling up at him, she rose up on her forearms to meet his gaze.

‘I don’t want to be without you. I need you…Please don’t make me wait any longer.’ 

The plea from her was all that he seemed to need. 

He pulled back onto his knew as he tore off the robed from his shoulders, and tossed it across the room, joined shortly by her towel. She was bare in front of him for the first time; any attempt to cover herself was met by a furiously deep growl and her desire to please him outweighed her want for modesty. Besides, her attention had settled in taking on her mate or more importantly, between his thighs. She had absolutely no basis for comparison apart from the brief glimpse she had seen in the Brightwater Whorehouse. They all appear inferior to her own dear Witcher. It bounced and swayed with his movements. It curved out from his body, looking rigid and swollen. A lowly rumble pulled her from her gaze and back to the Witcher who, with dark eyes, began once more to take his place over her. But for her hand to shot out against his chest, pausing him in his movements. 

‘Please…let me.’ Her soft voice pleaded.

Geralt stopped moving above her; hungry eyes searched across her face as she gently raised herself and let her fingertips trace the surface of his skin. His hands came down to clasp her knees, but she was still focused on exploring his arms and torso. He was perfect muscle; his body didn’t seem real as if chiselled in marble. Catching her lip between her teeth, she felt his eyes burn into her, but she steeled herself, she dared herself to touch his cock as it hung proudly between them. Fascinated, she watched her hand run up and down the length of him. He was thick and hot; she was amazed at how reactive he was, how his chest juddered and stifled moan caught in his throat. Wrapping her hand around the base, her small hands could scarcely fit around him as she sheepishly stroked upward.  
Geralt's strangled grunt brought her gazed away from his cock, but her hand's slow movement didn’t pause. 

Darting her gaze back to his, his eyes were almost completely black, just a thing circle of gold remained, his jaw clenched tight, and she watched as bronzed callous hand pulled at her arm trapping it on the bed next to her. She had no idea what to do next, but she knew what her body wanted. She felt so empty, body clutching at nothing, wanting to be filled and mated. Her core was wet and in need of her mate.

Geralt’s hand left hers as they continued onward until she felt the skin of his palms and fingers caress the skin of her stomach. Inwardly she winced, her soft and flabby stomach was not attractive, but the moan that pushed itself from his lips was enough to let her forget her insecurities. His hands roamed, seemingly enthralled with the dip of her belly button followed the skin up towards her breasts, they locked eyes again, and a deep blush bloomed across her body. She remembered his touch from before, but this was different, it seemed more real than the time before. 

‘Gods, I love your blush.’ Geralt all but moaned as his fingers ran across each rib below her breasts. 

She felt her nipples harden and her breast perk into delicate peaks under Geralt's lusty stare. She wanted to explore every dip and ridge of his body but was more than content to allow him to explore first.

Skillfully, her mate lowered himself down onto her, which was too much. To feel the heat of their bodies burn together sinfully. Crowd his hulking frame against her small figure before returning to nip and suck down jaw and neck. A wanton groan tore from her in a needy whine, her body surrendering to his teasing. Soft whimpers continued to fall from her lips as he leisurely worked his way down her neck until he was placing sucking kisses across the top of her breasts. 

Adva’s back arched his mouth began to suckle on the right nipple; his other hand came up to flick and pull at the other neglected nipple. His torso pinned her juddering hips that yearned for something, anything to take away the ache within her. Her hands fisted and twisted in his hair, pulling him to her as he sucked greedily. Every movement of his mouth urged her more till she was vibrating with need.

He released her breast with a wet plop and lowered his head to continue his kisses down her body, his hand never straying from her breasts. A whine she didn't know she was capable of escaped her throat as he rolled her nipples between his fingers. Her body was shaking with impatience, excitement and fear.

She watched as she kissed his way down her torso until he hovered over the most intimate part of her body, heavy eyes locking on to her own. A primal growl roared through him as her inhaled deeply. His eyes darkened to an impossible degree, as a wicked smile blessed his lips. He looked like a predator, and it scared her, yet it thrilled her at the same time. She tried to close her legs and pull herself from his grasp, only pull her back as a glimmer of glee stretched across his features. With no effort, he pulled her back into position, holding her in place with one large hand.

"My… kiss… little Goddess…kiss… I have to…kiss… worship you…kiss…I need to…’

A strangled cry choked its ways out of her as he mouther kisses into her trembling thighs. It felt good. Too good. Too much. Gods. Bucking against him, a powerful snarl rippled up her body. As his hand pressed down on her hip, holding her in place, as is other hand pried shaky open legs, exposing her.

A delicate cry poured from her as his tongue drove into her folds swirling around her clit. The feel of his tongue plunging into her core was overwhelming, too much, but she was too weak to want to escape such a sinful feel. 

One of his arms curled itself around her upper thigh, open palm against the opposite hip keeping her twisting body on the bed. Her eyes slammed shut tightly as another wave of pleasure surged through her as Geralt began to move again. His tongue was searching, alternating between circles, swirls, shapes and flicks till he found an action that brought about a cry of pleasure as she gripped the bedsheets, pushing her body up to lock eyes with him. Geralt smirked into her pussy, as he repeated the action again, and again, and again. Till it was as easy as breathing and his mate became a bubbling mess beneath him. His own moan began as her leg closed around his head, pulling him to her.

‘Please…..Please…Don’t….Stop….I can’t……I don’t know….Geralt.’ a string of moaned escaped her in a cry of passion.

Geralt growled at the sound of his names fell from her lips. From now on, he would have her call his name like that at least once a day. He was merciless. He knew that he was teasing, not hard enough to bring her to the release that she craved but light enough to keep her needy and wanting. Lowering himself down to lay full on the bed, a moan vibrating her clit as his cock rubbed tortuously against the bed, the friction that he craved. Another groan pushed its way out of her throat as his fingers traced the opening.

‘Gods Geralt’ Adva body curled into itself as Geralt middle finger slipped into her. During her fitful attempts at masturbating, she dipped her fingers into her arching core in an attempt to get some release but never had it felt like this. His digit searched her channel. Exploring and stretching.

Geralt let out a series of grunts as his finger sunk into her wetness. Gods, she was tight. And so hot. His eyes never left her as he plunged in and how curing how snugly she gripped at him. She was wet enough, but so tight. He kept his rhythm steady, as he worked into her till his finger hit that bundle of nerves he had desperately been searching for. Her whole body shuddered, and a flood of ecstasy rushed through her veins. 

She was so close; the feeling was overpowering. Too much but at the same time, not enough. When Geralt slipped in, she felt an uncomfortable stretch pull at her core, she mewled lowly, her hips jerking against Geralt’s hold.

‘You're doing so good, love.’ Geralt moaned in between furious licks as his fingers plunged swiftly in and out of her, hitting that spot again and again. 

‘Geralt…Ohhh Geralt.’ Adva body stiffened in the bliss that built in the pit of her stomach, threatening to burst in her.

Geralt grinned up at her as he pumped his fingers into her, curling them into her spot, his free hand sneaking up his body, messaging her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb as his tongue continued is an assault on her clit.

The whimpers grew into cries and the cries into shrieks of ecstasy. Geralt was in rapture as he watched her body arched and trembled as her orgasm broke through her. Her mouth formed into a perfect O as a nearly inaudible scream ripped through her. A mewling moan filled the room as her body twitched as wave after wave engulfed her. Her hands clawing at the sheet trying to find anything to keep her grounded.

Geralt still between her thighs was lapping at her core, sending little after tremor thorough her as she rode out her high. When the last of the tremors subsided, she lay weightless against the pillows. Geralt was all but purring between her legs, making sure every drop of her essence was not wasted. She felt strangely energised but boneless like she has been poured onto the bed. She couldn’t help but give her mate the brightest smile she could muster as he kissed his way up her body. 

Caging her in with his forearms Geralt settled down between her thighs and lazily kissed her lips. Adva groaned into his mouth as she tasted herself. It was not unpleasant; it was musty and thick, but it was proof of what had just happened. 

‘Mmmm I am going to spend the rest of your life devouring you.’ Geralt moan into her mouth. ‘but don’t think we are anywhere near done. You. Are. Mine.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that I haven't updated. Work has been crazy. Please let me know what you think.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are love


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